True Love Waits
by musiksnob
Summary: AU Future Fic.  Clare is at a publishing convention and discovers that someone from her past also has a book coming out.  Eclare. Now Complete.
1. Stop Whispering

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi. If I did...well...it's best not to go there right now.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**This story isn't really like anything I've written before. It's a future fic, which I normally hate, and it's set a year after Clare graduates from college. It will probably be about 10 Chapters long. It is dedicated to LiteraryLolita, since our conversations inspired this fic and she helped me work out my ideas.**

**I'd also like to give a shout out to anonymous reviewer Meg, who wrote me the most amazing review in the history of the world, even if it was for the wrong story. Don't Leave is still my favorite thing I've ever written, so you have no idea how much I appreciated what you said. Get Twitter and stop being anonymous, so you can be my friend. (And thanks to the other kind anonymous reviewers for being so sweet. I will leave them on for the time being, since it didn't attract any unnecessary bitchiness.)**

**I don't really want to get into the Drop the World fiasco here. There's a long rant on my Tumblr if you want to hear my thoughts.**

Chapter 1

I was attempting to lug the last of the boxes from the shipping room to the convention center floor, when the top box unceremoniously toppled over and spilled all of the books in contained onto the floor in the hallway. "Shit," I said under my breath, attempting to pick them up before someone tripped over them without losing the rest of the cart's contents.

"Here, let me help." A handsome guy who appeared to be a few years older than me, maybe in his early 30s, helped me gather the galleys and get them back into the box. He looked at my delicately balanced stack of boxes. "Why don't I just carry this one?"

"Thanks," I said, grateful for the help. I was working for a publisher so small that I was pretty much their only marketing person. My "boss" was out on maternity leave; I'd never even met her, but she sent me plenty of emails reminding me of just who was in charge. In her absence, they certainly hadn't given me her Head of Marketing salary but I was working enough hours to be doing both jobs.

My editor was flying in late tomorrow, but setup and running the booth were pretty much my responsibilities. I wasn't super fond of her either, despite the fact that she edited and published my book. The other books on our Fall list weren't exactly my taste, and I had to swallow a bitter pill every time I had to handsell "The Maiden's Dream Handbook," because they anticipated it could be their first big hit to crossover to a large market and put us on the publishing map.

I had spent the day hauling heavy boxes of books back and forth until a nice person from HarperCollins let me borrow their cart. Apparently you could rent them from the convention center but my publisher had probably been too cheap to bother.

I was sweaty and grumpy and couldn't believe I had three more days of this. This was my first Book Expo, but I'd pretty much determined it would be my last in marketing and it hadn't even started yet. If I didn't break into editorial by this time next year, I was giving up on the publishing industry.

We made it back to my booth in one piece, and he placed the box on the table that was already brimming with advanced reader copies I had unpacked when I was too tired to carry anything else. "Thanks for your help," I said and gestured to my cart. "I have to return this." I managed to get the boxes off the truck in one pile and wheeled away.

When I returned, the guy was still at my booth. He'd picked up a copy of "The Maiden's Dream Handbook" off the large center pile and was reading the jacket copy, but put it down when he saw me return. "You know you shouldn't put all of these out."

"Excuse me?" I was already opening up the next carton of books, preparing to make the stack even larger.

"People take them but they'll never read them. You should keep them behind in boxes so you're only giving them out to people who are actually interested in them. Trust me. Booksellers and librarians are vultures. They see free books and they take, take, take. Book bloggers are even worse."

"Well thanks for the advice, but that's not quite as true for us small press people. We need the free books to even get people to talk to us."

He nodded grimly. "And that's what's wrong with the publishing world."

He was still standing there and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. "Well thank you for the help with the boxes, but I've got to finish unpacking this stuff before the convention center closes and I'm sure you have some stuff to do."

"Nah, I think I'd rather just talk to you." He held out his hand. "I'm Dennis. Dennis Frantz."

I shook his hand, wishing mine weren't so grimy from all of the work I'd been doing. "I'm Clare."

"Clare...?"

"You need a last name?" I didn't even know who this guy was.

He laughed. "Sorry. It's just a journalist instinct. In case, I need to use you for a source."

"Journalist, eh? And now you're in book publishing?"

"Not exactly. I'm a book reviewer."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then what are you doing here? The convention doesn't even start until tomorrow."

"I find the floor easier to navigate without the masses. If I tried to talk to you tomorrow, you wouldn't have even made time for me."

His smugness was really starting to irritate me. "But if we were having this conversation tomorrow, I would have known you were a reporter and would have made sure this conversation was off the record from the beginning."

"Off the record? I'm wounded," he joked. "You're really bad at this marketing thing. If I had a book reviewer waiting on my every word, I'd be using this time to talk up my Fall line."

I rolled my eyes. "But I'm sure you're not from the Vancouver Daily News and they are pretty much the only people who ever review our books, and only because they are local. Not because our books are so good."

He laughed and pulled a notebook out of his pocket. "This is gold. Clare Edwards, Marketing Department Rep for..." He glanced at the sign over my shoulder, the only decoration in our small booth. "Dove Books says their books aren't very good."

"Like I said, this is off the record."

He wagged his notebook at me. "You're wasting a golden opportunity here."

"More like you're wasting your time." I held up "The Maiden's Dream Handbook." "I can see your review now: Cliches only a book club could love: A Review by Dennis Frantz."

He nodded. "That's a pretty good headline, but my editor would have to approve. Though my paper typically doesn't review books that pander to the book group crowd."

"And which paper is that?" I was trying not to sound too interested, but this was the first time a cute guy had engaged me in conversation since John – and that had been a long time ago.

"The New York Times."

My jaw dropped. His name had sounded familiar but I never would have thought. "Yeah, well then clearly you wouldn't deign to review anything on my Fall line. They are all written by women."

He smirked. "Ouch. We review everything Joyce Carol Oates writes, you know."

"Yeah but that's about it," I challenged.

"Well she's prolific," he shot back.

We grinned at each other and for the first time I felt at ease. Yeah, it was a strange guy, but he was pretty cute and I was comfortable in this bookish world. Most of my colleagues were women so I hadn't had to face any sort of workplace romance issues, but I liked the smile that Dennis was giving me.

"Would you like to have a drink with me?" he asked, and I was back to being flustered Clare. Was he really asking me out on a date? I thought back to John and how bad that went, and I knew that even though I was in New York City, thousands of miles from home, there was no way I could put myself out on the line with him.

"I'm sorry. I'm here for work."

He looked disappointed. "A work drink then? You try to sell me the best book on your fall list. Not the one you think will be biggest but the one you think is the best."

A light bulb went on in my head, and I realized I could make an opportunity out of this awkward conversation. I found the small pile of galleys with my name on them. The cover was plain yellow; the art department didn't have even a working cover by the time they went to print, which would have disappointed me if I had remotely liked any of their design ideas.

"Here," I said. "This is the best one. You can keep it and add it to your pile of books that you'll never read."

"Morning by Clare Edwards," he read off the cover. "You?"

I nodded, barely believing I was doing this. I knew it wasn't going to go anywhere, but he knew a lot of people in the industry, and if he liked it, it may open some doors. It might not help me write another novel, but maybe I could sneak into a low level editorial job at a New York house.

He flipped it over to the back to read the cover copy and his eyebrows raised in a way I couldn't quite understand. It was a pretty standard love story: high school sweethearts who just can't make things work.

He looked up at me. "You know, I think I'm going to have to take a raincheck on that drink. I'll have to read this tonight and come back to see you tomorrow."

"And if you hate it, I'll never see you again." I was mad at myself for feeling a little disappointed at that fact.

"I'm a book reviewer. It's usually more interesting when I don't like the book."

An announcement crackled over the loudspeaker, reminding us that the convention hall was closing. I groaned at the stack of boxes that I'd have to get up extra early to unpack. "I'll walk you out," Dennis offered and I gathered my purse and spring jacket from my hiding place.

"You know, I know our coverage isn't exactly comprehensive," he said. "We did slightly better when there were reviews in the Times every day but now that we've been cut back to two days of book reviews and not that many more book reviewers, it's difficult. I wish we did review more stuff, especially small press stuff."

He waved my book in his hands as we entered the main lobby. They had put up a lot of publicity for the "big books" of the convention, the ones that pay for this convention with their marketing budgets that cost more than my small publisher's budget for the entire year. There were banners with James Patterson's face on them, and Patricia Cornwell. John Green and Sarah Dessen.

"It's always the same old, same old," he continued. "Especially from the big publishers. I wrote a review of a debut novel for the first time this year. It's by a guy who's supposed to be the next Jonathan Franzen. Million dollar advance and they practically bought out all the advertising for Book Expo. I got to interview the author; he seems pretty down to earth for being a 24 year old wunkerkind." He gestured at the banner and my eyes widened in shock.

Midnight: A Novel.

By Eli Goldsworthy.


	2. Lucky

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi. If I did...well...it's best not to go there right now.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**This chapter starts a little differently than anything else I've written, so if you don't enjoy reading it, please skip down to where the chapter really starts. Also, keep in mind, this is the future, and Clare's 23. She's not the quiet sweet 15 year old we know and love.**

**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my favorite Degrassi fanfic writer and awesome friend, Floorplanhobo, because in real life she's a journalist. She would probably edit the shit out of this review and make it much better.**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

An excerpt from the New York Times Book Review: "Midnight and Morning: Modern Love Stories" by Dennis Frantz

Two debut novels arrive this fall, one greatly anticipated and the other mostly unknown, with temporal titles and similar plotlines, teenage love stories with heart and wisdom for readers long past their high school days.

The first is "Midnight," a love ode to two young women by a protagonist named Eli Goldsworthy, after the book's author. The first half of the work follows a tumultuous relationship with a girl named Julia, which ends in her tragic death while the narrator is merely fifteen years old. The later half picks up at the beginning of a new relationship with a girl named Clare as Eli tries to learn how to love again, only to find out that accidents aren't the only ways to find heartbreak.

Mr. Goldsworthy, whom early critics have heralded as the "next Jonathan Franzen," is rumored to have received a six figure advance for this novel, which is sure to have crossover appeal for fans of contemporary literature and book club members alike. The comparison to Franzen is apt as the small scale love story tackles grandiose thematic conceits, while occasionally getting tangled in wordy prose.

A novel that mines similar territory will be published by Dove Press this fall: "Morning" by Clare Edwards. Telling a story that's more coming of age than a romance novel, Ms. Edwards tackles a similar tale to that of Mr. Goldsworthy: the highs and lows of high school romance. The plotlines are so close – dead ex-girlfriend, three year relationship, and absolute heartbreak – that one wonders if Ms. Edwards and Mr. Goldsworthy may have been lovers, since the coincidences are so uncanny.

But it is the stories' differences that are their strengths. Mr. Goldsworthy's work is truly the story of the two women in Eli's life; aside from the brief moments between the relationships and after the final breakup, the narrator practically disappears as a character and becomes a worshipful observer. For a work of literary fiction, the novel's strength comes from an unlikely source: the emotional context of the narrator's love.

Ms. Edward's work lacks the passion of Mr. Goldsworthy's but she is almost more successful for it. Instead of wallowing in a childish love story, the latter half of Morning looks at what happens after the messy end of first love. In her tight and precise prose, we follow Jane through college and dating and the start of adult life. A woman emerges, rather than the shadow that narrates Midnight.

Though these works are two of the strongest debut novels to emerge in years, one cannot help but wish that Ms. Edwards and Mr. Goldsworthy were the inspiration for Clare and Eli in the latter's novel, for a reconciliation of the characters and a collaboration of authors might lead to a very exciting sequel.

* * *

><p>I wasn't sure which hurt more, my feet or my head. I wasn't sure what had possessed me to wear heels knowing I'd be on my feet, manning the booth the entire day, although they didn't seem to be bothering any of the skinny New York publishing house marketing bitches.<p>

The pounding headache was the direct result of the five martinis I'd chugged down at the hotel bar last night, eschewing dinner for one for an equally lonely pity party instead. Drunk, exhausted, and $75 poorer, I dragged myself up to my room and cried myself to sleep for the first time in over a year. My complete lack of good judgment made me forget to ask for a wake up call, and I woke up, still slightly tipsy, thirty minutes before I was supposed to be manning the booth.

It was 4:00 and I only had one hour to go. All I wanted was to get back to the hotel, order room service (since I hadn't had time for breakfast or lunch today) and take a shower. Well, all I really wanted was to stop thinking about Eli, but I knew that wasn't going to happen until I was back on the plane to Vancouver, and even that was a remote possibility.

I knew I looked like death warmed over, but I wasn't scaring away the many vultures, as Dennis had called them yesterday, from coming to the booth to grab whatever free books were out. A few people had taken my book, which pleased me, but most had stuck to "The Maiden's Dream Handbook" with its shiny, colorful cover.

The convention hall was still busy, but it had slowed down quite a bit in my row, where I was sandwiched between a small press that focused on contemporary poetry and a vanity publishing company that charged authors $2000 to publish them but promised they'd make millions in the ebook business. I sat down behind our display table and wondered if my editor's plane had landed, and if it would be too tacky to remove my shoes.

A middle aged woman stepped up to the table and picked up "The Maiden's Dream Handbook" but unlike most people, flipped it over to read the back copy. I stood up, happy to see someone who actually cared what the book was about. Her nametag told me she was a librarian and I was about to offer my pitch for the books when she put the book she'd been looking at back down on the pile and squealed. My eyebrows raised as she grabbed a copy of my book, holding it to her chest as if I were going to fight her for it.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you have this," she said, and I had to hold onto the corner of the table before I fell over in shock.

"How do you even know about this book?" Maybe she was confusing it with Midnight; Eli's book had a similar title and had gotten so much promotion that she was probably looking for that. And I was not going to tell her that she could find it in booth 2345 and that he'd be doing a signing...tomorrow...at 3:00. In an autographing booth that was less than 50 feet away from me.

"Oh, I read the review of it in the Times this morning. They always have great reviews during Book Expo."

The Times...? What the...? "I'm sorry but that can't be possible. You might be thinking of the book Midnight."

She nodded wildly. "That's the other book. I already got a copy of it yesterday but once I read the review that compared them, I knew I needed to get both of them." She looked at my nametag and her eyes widened. "You're Clare Edwards? You're the author?" Her grin was contagious and I felt like a rock star for the very first time. "Will you sign this for me?"

She held the book out and I awkwardly took it from her. I had never signed a book before. Even though I knew I'd be a published author in a matter of months, I had never really thought this would happen to me. I signed my name with a flourish on the title page and thanked the woman profusely.

As soon as she walked away, I collapsed onto the chair. How was this possible? I reached for my cell phone and realized I had turned it on silent by mistake.

Oh my God.

I had 40 missed calls, 150 emails, and 86 texts. I scrolled through the list. Most were from my editor, a few from my boss, even a call from my father which was practically a miracle in itself. I tried to read the emails but I couldn't get a signal in the cavernous convention hall.

I needed to see this article.

I wasn't really supposed to leave the booth unmanned, but my bladder was about to burst anyway, so I popped into the ladies room before running outside. Unfortunately, the Jacob Javits Center is about as far out in the boonies as you can get and still be on the island of Manhattan, so there were no newspaper boxes or newsstands nearby.

I ran back into the convention center as quickly as my pained feet would take me. I strolled up and down the aisles, looking for someone who had the Times in their hands. "Come on," I grumbled to myself. "We're all book people here. Someone must have it."

At the end of the aisle I saw a booth with their logo and raced over to it. "Hello," a man in a suit with a nice smile offered. "Would you like to take a look at...?"

"Do you have a copy of today's New York Times?"

His face fell. "Well, we're not the newspaper per se. We're the publishing arm, with a focus on historical books."

I was totally out of breath. "Look, I've got your coffee table book with all the covers and it's just lovely but right now, I need to get my hands on today's Book Review. Do you happen to have a copy? One of my authors got a very unexpected review."

He took a step back. "Well, I have my personal copy here if you want to take a look."

He dug through a briefcase as I had tried to keep my composure and not throw myself at him. "Here you go."

I grabbed the Book Review and shoved the rest of the paper back at him. Front page, above the fold was the cover of Eli's book and his publicity shot. But the headline included Morning and I skimmed down to find my name.

Heart and wisdom. Tight and precise. Strongest debut novels in years.

My book got a rave review from the New York Times.

The kind gentlemen who leant me his paper was looking at my shocked but jubilant expression with amusement. "Why don't you keep that?"

I threw my arms around him before realizing I was acting like a crazy person, and backed off, waving the paper. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

I ran back to my booth, my aching feet forgotten, and tried to control my excitement so I didn't get hauled off to a mental institution. In a hasty act of pride, I taped an index card in front of the pile of my books that said, "Rave review from the New York Times."

In the last hour of today's trade show, I pepped up, booktalking my book in addition to the others on our line, even giving "The Maiden's Dream Handbook" to a woman who loved "The Notebook" without even a trace of sarcasm. I was so worked up that I barely even noticed the announcement that the show was closing for the day.

"Ready for that drink?"

I looked up to find Dennis Frantz, standing in front of my booth with his arms crossed and a little bit of a smirk on his face. I was torn between punching him or kissing him but I knew neither was the right route.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Did you review my book to get me to go out with you?"

He laughed. "No, I must admit that was a total coincidence. Must like the plots of Morning _and _Midnight."

"I don't know what you're trying to imply," I said hautily. There was no way I was admitting that the connection between Eli and me went far behind the page.

"Nothing," he said. "Just that I absolutely loved your book and thought it would make a fine companion to my review of Midnight. I stayed up all night to finish rewriting in time for the 4 a.m. print deadline. My editor was not pleased."

"You really loved it?" I asked hesitantly. I wasn't trying to fish for compliments but I had never spoken to another soul about this book, besides my editor and the art department and they were my coworkers.

"I did."

I gazed at this man who had just paid me the highest compliment in my entire life. It seemed pretty unprofessional for a writer to get a drink with a book reviewer, especially one who may just have made her career.

But I didn't care about what was right. I'd been doing what was right for four years now. I was ready to do what _felt_ right.

"One drink," I said and his face lit up. "But you're buying."


	3. Karma Police

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi. If I did...well...it's best not to go there right now.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**This chapter is dedicated to Sarenka222 who encouraged me to write in third person which has eluded me ever since I started writing fanfic and helped me make it better.**

**The next few chapters begin with excerpts from their novels.  
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* * *

><p>An excerpt from Midnight by Eli Goldsworthy<p>

Eli equated English homework with sex, since it was the only thing that could get Clare into his bed. He watched her as she reread a chapter of the Handmaid's Tale, her lips moving slightly, her tongue darting out to touch the pen that she absentmindedly tapped against her mouth. It brought to mind the most innocent of his many adolescent sex fantasies about her, and he found himself reaching for a pillow before Clare could notice how his thoughts had strayed from dystopian gender politics.

She put down her book and started wiggling down to the end of the bed, the floor to the side still too crowded to walk on. He watched her back, swinging with a sex appeal he was sure she had never even considered. "Leaving me?" he teased, though he was truly afraid of the answer.

"Getting a glass of water. Want anything?"

He shook his head and lay back, amused. He loved that she was so comfortable in his house, with him.

When she returned, she hovered near the door awkwardly, and he realized that his nightstand had turned into a haven for piles of comic books he didn't want to get rid of, and there was no place for her to set the glass down. Eli hastily grabbed the piles, glancing around for an open space, but finding none, tossed the pile aside, into a box filled with old CDs that he hadn't listened to since he got an Ipod, and art supplies from the brief period where he'd tried to channel his grief into really terrible abstract paintings.

But Clare wasn't even watching as Eli made room for her glass on the nightstand, and her body right next to him. Her gaze narrowed at a pile of envelopes on Eli's desk. "What are these?" she asked, though by her tone she already knew.

New York University. McGill. Brown. University of British Columbia. Devon College. University of Iowa.

All large envelopes. With letters that began, "We are pleased to inform you."

Eli hesitated, then jumped up to take the letters out of her hand. "I wanted to tell you. It's just...I was waiting for one more."

He climbed over a few piles into the depths of his room, to get to the box that contained his most important treasures. The watch Clare had given him that belonged to her father. The love letter he'd written to Julia after her death. "This is the only one that matters."

She glanced at the return address label, confused. "University of Toronto?"

"I wanted to make sure I got in before I worried you. I'm not going anywhere, Clare."

Eli wasn't sure what he was expecting. Joy. Happiness. But Clare looked perplexed and he felt his heart drop.

"Are you sure, Eli? You got into so many amazing universities. You should go visit them, consider your options."

"Why aren't you happy for me?"

Clare dropped the envelope on the pile with the rejected schools and took his hands. "I am happy. But...I don't want you to stay here for me."

He laughed. "Come on, Clare. I got into one of the best schools in the country and you think I'm staying here for you." His response came out colder than he intended to hide exactly how close to the truth she had come.

It took a moment, but finally she smiled faintly. "University of Toronto, eh? My boyfriend, the scholar."

He pulled her to him. "Celebrate with me?" He lay down on the bed as she climbed on top of him and he fell in love with the weight of her body, pressing into his.

* * *

><p>One margarita had turned into two and the plate of nachos we were sharing wasn't doing much to keep the alcohol from going to my head. It had been a long time since I had captivated the attention of any man, let alone one as intelligent and worldly as Dennis Frantz.<p>

But his flirty attention made me feel uneasy, even as I enjoyed his interest. No matter what I changed the subject to – BookExpo, the weather – he ended up peppering me with questions about my book and my life and the intersection between them.

"How long have you lived in Vancouver?" He sipped his margarita. I enjoyed that he hadn't been embarrassed to order a girly drink, but it annoyed me how composed he was, when I was red-faced and tipsy, half a drink behind.

"Almost five years. I moved there for college."

He smirked. "So, you're what? 23?"

I nodded. "Why? How old are you?"

"33. Too old to be out drinking with you on a weeknight," he teased. "But you seem like an old soul." His attention immediately skipped back to his inquisition. "You grew up in Toronto, then?"

I felt a little trapped. Eli's book was set in Toronto and I didn't want to make the connection in his mind. "Yes."

He pursed his lips in concentration. "Do you know Eli Goldsworthy? The coincidences between your stories are truly remarkable and we both know that most debut novels draw heavily on the author's life experiences."

I was glad he didn't dance around the topic. Better to get this out of the way. "No, I don't. And I haven't read his book, but I imagine that most teenage romances kind of go the same way. It's a big city, you know. Almost as big as New York."

He raised an eyebrow, and I could tell he didn't believe me. "So your story is based on your real life teen romance?"

"You know this is a date, right? If I had wanted to set up an interview, I would have given you my publicist's card."

"Aren't you your own publicist?"

I batted my eyelashes at him in what I hoped was a flirty, and not crazy way. "I am. So we would have ended up here regardless."

"But a work date sounds so much less fun." He ran a finger along my palm and I had to keep myself from shuddering. It had been so long since someone had touched me.

"Exactly. Which is why this line of inquiry is both inappropriate and off the record."

He sat back a little and looked at me. "Why all the secrecy? I'd think a debut novelist with the world's tiniest publisher would be jumping to tell her story."

"Do all of your dates get the journalist version of the third degree?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. You don't get to write for the New York Times without an unshakeable curiosity and an unrelenting thirst for the truth." The look he gave me was one of pure desire. "Unfortunately, it doesn't do much for your sex life."

My eyes widened. I was starting to wonder whether I was in over my head here. There were probably a million ethical concerns about going out for drinks with a man who had just give you a glowing review in the world's biggest newspaper. Throwing in the question of sex...

Dennis seemed to notice my discomfort. "I'm not...oh hell, I'm terrible at this dating thing."

"It's fine." I forced a smile onto my face. "So besides my book, what was the last book by a woman that you really enjoyed?"

He laughed. "The fact that I really have to think about this really says something, doesn't it? Hmmmm...the last one that I loved was probably Patti Smith's followup to Just Kids."

"Oooh, I haven't read that yet. Did you review it?"

"One of my colleagues did."

"I'm surprised the Times deigned to review a book by a woman – and a memoir nonetheless."

"Well, she did win a National Book Award. Hard to ignore that, though we try so hard. But Jonathan Franzen can only write so many books."

I hoped that I was only cringing inside my head and not showing my discomfort on my face as I thought of the comparison between Franzen and Eli in his review. "There was quite a controversy when his last book came out. I have to say, I was on Jennifer Weiner's side."

He rolled his eyes. "Two reviews for the biggest book in a decade is hardly cause for such a media outcry. We barely get to cover the tip of the literary fiction world, let alone all the generic women's lit that the pubs churn out to make money, promising the perfect man to desperate women."

"Have you read her works? They are quite well-written and the characters are deep. And while there's always a love interest, he's never the primary point to the novel. I mean, in the sequel to Good in Bed, she kills..."

He placed his hands over his ears. "Don't tell me. I know it's been out for years, but I haven't gotten to read it yet."

"Are you telling me that you are a secret chick lit fan?"

His eyes lit up. "I am a fan of the written word. As long as it's smart or funny or sad or true, I will read it."

He looked so genuine that all I wanted to do was kiss him.

I gestured to the waiter. "I'll take another margarita."

Almost two hours later, we were in the back of a cab, headed back to my hotel. We hadn't kissed but we were sitting just a little too close and he stroked my arm when it met the shoulder of my sleeveless dress. My head was spinning but it wasn't the drinks; it was me finally letting myself live again.

The cab pulled up in front of my hotel, and Dennis paid for it, sending the driver on his way. I suddenly grew nervous. I'd been hoping to end the night with one intense, burning kiss that I hadn't experienced in forever, but now, standing in the doorway to my hotel, I wondered what he was thinking. For one kiss, he would have asked the driver to stay. Clearly he wanted something more.

It wasn't that I didn't want to bring him up to my hotel room, to let his hands wander underneath my dress. But I knew where it ended, an awkward uncomfortable "no" that would ruin even the most wonderful evening. I had been there time and time again, and I had sworn off men for it.

Besides, he was the wrong man. He had reviewed my book and even someone with the loosest interpretation of workplace ethics would bat an eye at turning this into more than a casual date. And he lived in New York and I lived in Vancouver and nothing could possible come of this.

"When do you fly back to Canada?" he asked in a way that reminded me he wasn't quite as wordly as I had thought, that he thought of my country as one monolithic northern neighbor of hockey and snow.

"Friday morning."

He stepped closer. "Will I see you before then?"

I narrowed the gap between us further. "I don't know. But I hope so."

He leaned down and kissed me.

It took me a second to catch up, the alcohol making my brain hazier than I had realized. But I pushed my hesitance away and kissed him back, ferociously tangling my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, and pushing my body closer to his.

The kiss went on, too long to be a goodnight kiss, too long to take place outside of a bedroom. I could hear tourists skirting our coupled bodies, their shopping bags swinging, but I couldn't bear to tear my lips from his.

It was only the loud, deliberate slamming of a cab door that made me take a step back and attempt to catch my breath, as we both turned to the sound.

And Eli stood in front of me.

I gasped.

He gave me a stony glare and headed into the hotel – my hotel. He didn't have any bags with him and he had clearly already checked in and God, I hadn't seen him in close to four years, but it felt like not a moment had gone by. I wanted to run after him, to see how he was, to hold onto him and never let go. To apologize for ruining everything we had.

I looked at Dennis. He was giving me a look that was slightly sad, but mostly smug. "That was Eli Goldsworthy, wasn't it?"

There was nothing to say. I gave him a look of apology and swept into the hotel. Eli was nowhere in sight.

I managed to wait until I was alone in the elevator before the tears fell.


	4. Thinking About You

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi. If I did...well...it's best not to go there right now.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**A million thanks to Sarenka222 who totally made the excerpt from Clare's book like a zillion times better. She has only written one story but you should read it, because it's awesome.**

**Just in case it wasn't clear, Chapters 3-6 will begin with excerpts from Eli or Clare's books. This one is Clare's, which means the main characters are named Jane and Matthew, but we all know who it is really about. (And then after that it goes back to the future and the regular story from Clare's POV.)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

An excerpt from Morning by Clare Edwards

When Jane returned home from church that first Sunday in August, she flopped onto her bed. She had less than two weeks before flying out to Vancouver and she hadn't packed a thing.

She also hadn't told Matthew.

He thought she was getting ready to attend the University of Toronto, to sit by his side in the cafeteria and to borrow his old textbooks, following right in his footsteps as an English major. He'd been disappointed when she chose the dorms over living with him, but he said he understood. He thought it was about sex. Matthew thought everything was about sex.

He thought everything else was perfect.

Matthew wasn't completely oblivious. He'd noticed when her father's Honda ceased appearing in the driveway. And after several weeks, the questions started. "Isn't that your mom's car?" he'd ask. "I thought it was your dad's turn at home this week."

She didn't know why her father's transgressions filled her with such shame. She had shared everything with Matthew. He knew that she slept with a nightlight until she was thirteen and he had seen the heart shaped birthmark on the inside of her right thigh.

But this was one thing she couldn't tell him.

"Oh, he's just got this terrible cold," she would say, or "Well, he had to leave town to deal with some work emergency."

That was simpler than, "Oh, he knocked up his twenty year old girlfriend." And it hurt less than, "Well, he had to leave town to start his new family elsewhere."

Her father had decided to do the "honourable" thing, to marry the girl who was younger than his eldest daughter. His nuptials and impending child had allowed him to take Jane's mother to court to renegotiate their divorce decree. The judge had reduced her alimony to the point where she had no choice but to sell the house and try to make ends meet on her meager salary.

Her parents' divorce two years earlier had left her with only the remnants of a family… a few flimsy shreds in place of what she once had had. But now even those were unraveled beyond repair.

Jane couldn't bring herself to tell Matthew that she'd lost everything. And she couldn't bring herself to explain that no matter how much she loved him, she had to leave.

But she couldn't put this off any longer.

She left him a voicemail, asking him to come over when he got a chance, and got started.

Everything had to go into a box. Vancouver. Storage. Trash. She would come home for Christmas break, but she'd have no home to return to.

She was afraid she'd lose Matthew, too.

* * *

><p>The next morning of the trade show was remarkably pleasant, given that I had a minor hangover for the second night in a row. But a few booksellers and librarians had done what they do best and spread the word about my book. A few people came up and asked for it by name and were pleased when I offered them an autographed copy. A whole bunch of people listened to my booktalk and asked for a copy excitedly.<p>

By two thirty, I had run out and started collecting business cards in hopes of finding some extra copies back at the office to send out. The signing for "The Maiden's Dream Handbook" was over and for such a small press, it had been successful, so my duties only involved staffing the booth for the rest of the night, a half day tomorrow and light cleanup, and then I was done. The hard work was over and I was finally seeing the benefits.

I would have been on cloud nine, except for the fact that Eli's signing was starting. Our booth was located close enough to the autographing section that his line actually crossed right in front of us, by far the longest one for a debut author.

I wanted to talk to him. I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, which felt strange since I had been rehearsing what I would say to him if I ever saw him again ever since our breakup. The responses varied: sometimes I'd beg him to take me back, sometimes I'd be aloof and try to show him I was fine.

But seeing him again...it made all the old wounds feel fresh.

And the worst part was: I had inflicted them. He had done everything right; he had supported me. He was the perfect boyfriend.

And I threw him away.

As I listened to two college aged girls giggle in line over how cute he was, I tried to remember everything horrible about Eli. His taste in music. The way his room always smelled a little weird, even once we had cleaned it. Morty.

God, I wanted to know if he still drove Morty.

I needed to see him. But there was no way I could do this here. He was the love of my life; there was no way I was standing in his autograph line.

Besides, there was no reason to ruin his moment in the spotlight.

Because there was no way he didn't hate me.

Four hours later, I was back in my hotel room, filling up the bathtub with steamy hot water. My feet were aching and I was exhausted. I was starving too, but I had already decided that I'd turn down any offers from my editor to go out to dinner with her and the author who had done the signing today. It was worth it to spring for an absurdly high room service bill that many company would not reimburse me for if it meant I could take a bath, put on my pajamas, and relax by myself.

The tub was almost full so I started to unbutton my blouse when I heard a knock at the door. Slightly annoyed that my editor hadn't bothered to call ahead, I opened the door, holding the sides of the blouse together as I stuck my head through the crack.

Eli was standing on the other side.

"Oh my God," I said, my mouth moving faster than my brain.

"Taking the Lord's name in vain, Clare? My, how things have changed."

I opened the door wider, a little pissed off. Four years and this was how he wanted to be?

"What do you want? Or perhaps, more importantly, how did you find me?"

He smirked. God, that smirk drove me nuts in high school, inspiring equal measures of fury and lust that were clearly not byproducts of my immaturity because I could feel my heart racing. "I got a million dollar advance for my book. I can afford to bribe a bellhop."

No, no, no. This wasn't how seeing Eli after four years was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to be cocky. He was supposed to be happy to see me. Maybe angry. But not this sarcastic passive-aggressive bullshit. I was not going to put up with this.

"What do you want, Eli?"

"Come get a drink with me."

I shook my head. "I don't think so." I started to close the door on him but he stuck his foot in the jamb, and I reluctantly opened it back up.

"We've never gone out for drinks together. You were only 18 when you left me."

His expression was intense, challenging. I wasn't up for it. Being only a few feet from him made me feel weak. "I've had too much to drink lately. This isn't a good idea." He still looked smug and I shook my head. "Goodnight, Eli."

"Clare, wait." His voice softened and I kept the door open.

"I read your book."

I sucked in a breath. Eli read my book. "How is that even possible?" I felt vulnerable and exposed that he had read my words that were so personal to me. They revealed so much about how I felt about him, even if it were buried in fictional subtext.

The hardness in his face was back. "Your boyfriend had a copy sent up to my room last night."

Dennis? "He's not my boyfriend."

Eli laughed. "Because Clare Edwards practically dry humps complete strangers outside of hotels now? My, what would Jesus think?"

"I am not doing this with you." I grabbed the door, fully prepared to slam it on his foot if necessary but Eli took a step back on his own.

"Nice bra," he said before turning away and heading back toward the elevator.

Fuck. I had forgotten that my shirt was unbuttoned and in my rage at Eli's pompous, asinine behaviour had let go and given him a show.

Ugh.

I ripped off the rest of my clothes and got into the tub, which had cooled down just enough that it was the perfect temperature. But the bath was doing little to calm me down. Every cell of my body was thinking about Eli.

What did I want from him? It was a question I didn't know how to answer when we broke up, and I hadn't found any more answers in the past four years.

Part of me wanted to get on the first plane back to Vancouver and never talk to him again.

Part of me wanted to rip his clothes off and finish where we'd left off.

I couldn't get the image of him out of my mind. Even back home, even after so many years, he was always pretty close to the surface, but seeing him in person... Those piercing green eyes, the tight black jeans.

I groaned as I realized just how turned on I was by the sight of him, by our charged, if angry banter. I felt like I was back in high school, panting on the front porch after Eli's intense goodnight kisses. I didn't want to feel like this, and I knew there was only one way to take care of things.

I really felt like I was back in high school as I turned the tap back on, scooting down and spreading my legs to let the water run over me. I had been so frustrated by making out with Eli and not being able to do more with him that I had googled tips for "solo sex" needing to find some relief. It had been ages since I'd done it this way, but I had left my trusty vibrator back at my apartment so this would have to do.

The water felt amazing and I lay back further, arching my back as I teased one of my nipples into a point. Not for the first time, I pictured Eli, his tongue doing the work of the water. It had taken me well over a year to allow Eli to get that intimate with me, and I missed those moments. I wondered what it would be like to be with him now. The fact that he was somewhere in this hotel excited me beyond belief, and it only took a few minutes of the water pounding against me for me to orgasm hard, crying out "Oh, Eli" as it happened.

As soon as it was over, I was a little embarrassed at how pathetic I was, for fantasizing about my ex – not that it was the first time. I got out of the tub and pulled a towel around me. I dried off for a few minutes before removing the towel and wrapped it around my hair. I had just stepped out of the bathroom to find a set of pajamas, intending to order room service when there was a knock at the door.

Shit. "Just a minute."

I scrambled into my pajamas as quickly as I could and ran to the door. When I opened it, there was no one there, and I scanned both sides of the hallway, but it was empty. On the floor, there was a book and upon closer inspection, it was an advanced reader copy of Midnight. I picked it up and brought it back into my room. There was a note stuck between the pages.

_Clare, Please read this. I'm in room 1351. -Eli_

I threw the book across the room in annoyance. It was just too much. Ex-boyfriends were supposed to disappear; they weren't supposed to become famous writers and attend major work events and show up at your hotel room looking sexy.

They weren't supposed to remind you of why you were in love with them. And why you've never moved on.

I picked up the book. Unlike my ARC, his had a cover, an eye-catching cover that was sure to help it sell well in bookstores. I saw the note had fallen out and picked it up, realizing there were words on the back of the scrap of paper Eli had written on.

_Eli, read this book. She's still in love with you. -Dennis Frantz, New York Times_

So Eli received a copy of my book, with a note that said I was in love with him.

And he read it. And he wanted to see me.

And I blew him off.

Fuck.

It felt like I was always screwing things up between us. But maybe, just maybe...I could make things right.

I got under the covers and started reading.


	5. High and Dry

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi. If I did...well...it's best not to go there right now.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**Thank you to Sarenka222 for helping me fix this.**

**This is another chapter that begins with an excerpt and then jumps back into the regular story.**

Chapter 6

An excerpt from Midnight by Eli Goldsworthy

Eli was expecting Clare to stop by after Christmas dinner with her family. She'd sent him an email to that effect, though she ignored his email where he offered to join her. He'd spent the past two Christmases with her family, since his was Jewish and he was nothing. But he'd received no response, so he waited at home, pacing in front of the window, anticipating her arrival.

He knew there was something wrong – that Clare's phone calls had all but stopped and she frequently screened his calls. He figured it was the distance – out of sight, out of mind – and the stress of university life.

But everything would be okay. Because Eli had a plan.

When Clare finally arrived, climbing out of a taxi and lugging a large suitcase, Eli ran down the front steps to greet her. He wrapped his arms around her and sniffed her hair, feeling comforted by her familiar scent.

He pulled back to look into her beautiful blue eyes. "I love you. You know that, right?"

She smiled. "I know that."

Eli leaned down to pick up her suitcase. "So does this mean you're spending the night? Are your parents okay with that?"

She walked up the steps so fast, Eli had to hustle to keep up with her. "My flight leaves tomorrow morning, so I figured I'd spend my last night here with you."

"Wait, tomorrow? Why are you leaving so soon?" The separation anxiety that had propelled his heartbeat for the past four months came surging back, restarting the palpitations that had ceased only moments before. "Classes don't start for weeks."

She ignored his question and walked straight up the stairs to his room. He thought it was strange that she didn't pop into the living room to say hello to his parents. He struggled to carry her large suitcase up the stairs, wondering why she had brought home so much clothing if she had only intended to stay in Toronto for two nights.

Clare was standing in the middle of his room, looking around. It wasn't as clean as it had been when she left in August. Eli knew he had regressed, refusing to throw out things that reminded him of her – coffee cups and pens and every word he'd written. He'd hoped to work on it during Christmas break, but now that she was leaving, he knew it would only get worse.

"I thought you were still in the dorms," she said softly.

He shook his head. "I moved out after...you know." He looked down at his gray socks, his toe poking out through a large hole he hadn't noticed when he put them on that morning.

She gave him a hard look and sat down on the edge of his bed. He wanted to curl up next to her, to wrap their bodies together. But the look on her face told him she wasn't looking to be cuddled.

"Eli, I'm leaving tomorrow because I can't be in Toronto anymore. I'm sorry, but it's just too hard for me. I came home to say goodbye to my parents." A tear dribbled down her cheek. "The only reason I even bothered to do that was so that I could see you."

He stared at her. He didn't understand what that meant. She couldn't be in Toronto anymore? Ever? "What does that even mean?"

She sighed. "It means that moving to Vancouver was the best decision I ever made."

She didn't offer any more information, and Eli wasn't really sure what to ask her. But he realized that his elaborate plot to fix things between them – the dinners and the flowers and the scavenger hunt that would lead her right back to him – they weren't going to happen. She was leaving tomorrow and he had to lay all of his cards on the table before he lost her forever.

He walked over to his desk, wishing he had been better prepared for this moment. He thought he'd have almost a month, but it was all coming down to this one night. He slipped a small box into the pocket of his black blazer and picked up a large envelope.

He slipped the letter out and handed it to her. Her eyes widened as she read. Eli sat next to her on the bed. "You're transferring to Vancouver?" she squeaked.

"I didn't know just how badly you felt towards Toronto when I sent in the application, but I couldn't bear to be half a country apart from you. My grades were pretty good," – and U of T is a much better school, he added silently – "But I wanted to make sure I got in before I told you. I wouldn't be able to start until the Fall semester so we'd still have a few months of long distance, but I could move out there as soon as finals are over."

He waited for a reaction.

There was none.

He decided to continue. "I know last summer you weren't thrilled about the idea of getting an apartment together, but I was hoping you'd reconsider. I really don't like living in a dorm, and after spending so much time apart...I just want to be with you, Clare."

"I can't," she whispered. But Eli was expecting this reaction.

"We don't have to sleep together," he said gently. "We can get a two bedroom if we can afford it, or if we can't, I'll sleep on the couch every night if I have to. But I'd love to wake up every morning holding you in my arms – even if we're not having sex."

She didn't look convinced. She pulled her legs to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them, looking away from Eli as she rocked back and forth. He didn't quite understand her reaction; he could see being hesitant but she seemed positively upset. Why would she be upset that her boyfriend – who she'd been in love with for three years – was willing to give up his whole life to move across country and be with her?

"Clare?" he asked gently. He got her to unwrap herself and to allow him to take her hand. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

She shook her head. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

Eli watched her. She was sitting right next to him, but she might as well already have been back in Vancouver. "Is there someone else?" It would make sense – the lack of communication, needing to get back so quickly, her canceling his trip out there for a long weekend because she had too much work to do. He held his breath, waiting for her response.

For the first time, she turned toward him and her voice warmed up. "Eli, no...there's no one else. You're the only person I want to be with."

Eli leaned in for a kiss and Clare returned it, her lips parting though he had intended it to be chaste. He wanted nothing more than to lay her down and climb on top of her, making love to her with his mouth and his hands.

But the celebration should wait. He sat back and Clare looked at him curiously. He lifted up her left hand as he fiddled with the box in his pocket.

"Clare, I know we're young, and I know that it's crazy. But I love you and I'm ready to spend the rest of my life with you." He slipped the ring onto her finger, realizing for the first time that she had removed her purity ring. He thought for a moment about what that might mean – that she was ready to sleep with him, or that she'd had sex with someone else.

He realized it didn't matter.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

><p>Fortunately, the last day of Book Expo went smoothly because I couldn't concentrate. I'd only gotten about an hour's sleep and there were more important things on my mind. So, I packed up the booth, which was pretty easy given our minimalist decoration and the fact that the all the books had made their way into readers' hands, and found myself waiting in line at the cab stand by 3 p.m.<p>

Every single thought in my brain went back to Eli and his book.

I tried to view it objectively. Like most of his English assignments, it was beautifully written and full of emotion. There were a few passages I would have suggested he omit, and some sentence-level writing that could have been cleaned up. But overall, it was perfect. I could see why he'd gotten such a large advance for a debut work of fiction.

But when I turned my inner editor off and looked at it as a chronicle of our history...it just killed me. Dennis's review was apt; it was a love letter to me and to Julia. In fact, reading his love for her poured onto the page was so gripping that I got lost in it. He'd always been able to shower me with words of love and praise and pride, but we were together three years and he barely spoke of Julia.

Finally seeing her for who she was, rather than a ghost who'd claimed part of Eli's heart, made me understand the depth of his pain for the first time. And understanding that made me realize just how deeply Eli had to fall in love with me to allow himself to move on.

The parts that were about me...God, they were so hard to read. Not because of how he portrayed me – he was nothing if not completely fair – but the range moments of our relationship that he captured on the page tugged at my heart. I'd laugh through my tears at the memories of us cleaning up his room and finding the most obscure items ever created. I choked back a sob at reading his memory of my grandmother's funeral, recalling even the hymns correctly as he related to my grief through his memories of Julia.

He hadn't shied away from the unhappy times: the fights that lasted for days, his sexual frustration. The way we talked around our feelings rather than having the deep, dark conversations that might have saved us.

But for all the memories and the emotions his work conjured, I found myself with more questions than answers. In my book, I continued my story far past the break up, practically up until the moment I sent in my manuscript for consideration. Eli's story ended only a month after our breakup.

I had left him in pieces.

The cab ride was brief; rush hour traffic had not yet begun and I found myself in the lobby of the hotel. I had scheduled my flight for the next afternoon, figuring I could use the day to check out New York City. The last time I had been here was a vacation with my family, before the divorce, before my sister left for Kenya.

But the thought of putting on comfortable clothes and standing on line – alone – at the Statue of Liberty felt like the wrong decision. I pushed the button for my floor, but when the doors opened, I impulsively pushed the number of Eli's floor. I paced the floor of the tiny elevator for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than seconds.

I hesitated outside the door. He was such an ass to me yesterday; I couldn't handle it if he mocked and insulted me. But it felt important that our last meeting, our last moments together, were about something more than anger. He had taken the step to return to my door to give me his book and I needed to find a way to erase that ugliness so we'd be able to move on.

I held my breath and I knocked, half hoping Eli wouldn't answer, that he'd checked out and was halfway back to Toronto. But he answered, with sleep ruffled hair and a v-neck t-shirt. His eyes lit up for just a moment before he plastered his signature smirk across his face, but I knew I hadn't imagined it.

"I knew you'd be back."

I couldn't quite read his tone, and it pissed me off. After so many years of dating, I couldn't tell if he was being feisty or sincere – the result, I supposed, of even more years spent apart.

"I could sue you for libel."

Great job, Clare. Didn't I come up here to be mature? To make things better? Eli's eyebrows raised. "Do you want to come in? We could get room service."

This time my annoyance was genuine. "Afraid to be seen with me? Worried the paparazzi will snap your picture with an unknown now that you're the next Jonathan Franzen?"

Eli's face fell, and I realized that even though banter had historically been part of our act, he was being sincere. "No, I just..." His voice faltered. "I feel like whatever comes next between us will either result in yelling or tears, and I'd rather do that in private."

That was the Eli I loved, the guy with the little rasp in his voice when he was hurt. "I'm not really hungry. But I would like to come in and talk to you. And hopefully keep the screaming and crying to a minimum."

I followed him into his room. It was more than double the size of mine and had an attached suite for sitting and dining. Eli led me to the bed before he broke out in laughter. "I can't believe I just showed you to my bed. That's such a high school thing, to sit on beds together and have deep conversations." I smiled, remembering the hours we'd spent in his room, happy and sad, sexy and sweet.

We sat down in the more appropriate living room. He sat on the couch but I chose a chair to put some distance between us. We exchanged awkward glances and Eli wiped his hands on his jeans nervously.

"So the libel thing...?" he began. "Is that because of the names? Because I really tried hard to be fair and portray things as they happened to the best of my recollection. I hope you didn't think I was too harsh or inaccurate or something."

I wasn't ready to concede, even though I agreed with his assessment. He was fair, possibly too kind in his portrayal of me. So I simply admitted, "It's because of the names."

He smiled. "My editor loved the book but he wanted to change the names. I made up some bullshit explanation about how postmodern it was and self-referential and the tension between the author and fiction and all those fun academic literary tropes. It turned out he was Pyncheon's original editor, so that was right up his alley." He grinned even wider. "I did have to tell him your name was Sally in order for him to go for it."

"And why was it so important for your to use our names?"

I could see the sadness in his eyes and wondered if it was because I hadn't "gotten it" on my own. "It was our story, Clare. I couldn't see it any other way."

I was close to admitting that in my earliest draft there were parts that I had written with our names in it, and that I had to do a find and replace to take them all out. But a glimmer had appeared in his eyes and I kept this fact to myself. "Jane and Matthew?"

I looked down at my hands. I didn't enjoy this, the needing to justify my artistic choices. Which was probably the reason that I thought my editor was such a bitch. "Jane is very plain, and Matthew is biblical without being over the top."

He laughed. "I suppose I should be glad you didn't turn Elijah into Ezekiel." He leaned forward. "You know, I really loved your book. I do have one question for you."

"Only one?"

"One question about the book itself, not its contents." He hesitated for a moment. "This is going to sound insulting, but really I'm just curious. Your book was published by the house you work for?"

I was glad he had prefaced his sentence, because that was a question I'd received before and the answer always was defensive. "I submitted under a pseudonym. I'd been rejected by a few publishers and I knew what I had written was loads better than anything we were putting out. I probably should have waited around for a better offer, but I had just gotten my first job out of school and was worried about paying back student loans and I figured any publisher was better than no publisher."

He nodded, non-judgmentally and I realized he probably did enjoy the book if he wasn't trying to accuse me of nepotism. "How do you know where I work, by the way?"

He laughed. "I googled you."

I rolled my eyes. I had forced myself to delete Eli from my life, from my phone and email and Twitter and Facerange. I had been tempted to type his name in so many times, to find a recent picture or some news or even – god forbid – a wedding registry, like they were always looking for in the chick lit books I read.

I recalled the name on the spine of Eli's books. "You know, I was rejected by your publisher, and now that I think about it, the rejection letter came with a handwritten note that they loved it but it was too similar to something they already had."

Eli's laughter was such a welcome sound. "It's good for me that they got mine first."

"Just think. I could be the one in this posh hotel room."

"And I'd be in Cece and Bullfrog's basement, jerking off."

And just like that, I was back at Eli's dining room table, eating spaghetti with his parents on a Friday night, while Cece and Bullfrog serenaded us with the hits of the 80s and Eli and I got tipsy on two glasses of red wine despite being underage.

I was glad I didn't flashback to anything involving Eli masturbating.

While I was lost in my amused thoughts, Eli had grown serious. His hands were shaking in his lap and I could see him struggle to relax them. My instinct was to take his hands in mine and rub the tension out of them, like I had done so many times before. The impulse was so strong that I had to sit on my hands, sliding them between the skirt of my dress and the chair so I couldn't touch him.

"Clare, there's one thing I need to know. I just need you to answer this one question, and once you do, I'll be out of your life forever."

I ignored the pang in my chest that followed his words. "You can ask me anything."

He took a deep breath. "I've read your whole book, cover to cover. Twice even. And I can see your perspective with a clarity that I definitely didn't have before. There's a lot about you that I didn't understand when we were going through this, that I think I get now. But even though you've written these scenes and these characters, and even though you were thorough and didn't leave anything out, there's still one piece that eludes me."

My heart stopped as I waited for his question.

"Why did you break up with me?"

I closed my eyes. "Eli, you asked me to marry you. I was eighteen years old. There was no way I could make that kind of commitment no matter how much I cared about you."

"But you could have said, "No." You could have said, "Not yet." But you didn't run away from my proposal; you ran away from our relationship."

"We didn't want the same things."

"The only thing I wanted was to be with you. I asked you to marry me because I thought that was the only way you'd let me come to Vancouver and move in together. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

I scoffed. "You didn't want to marry me. You just wanted to fuck me."

"Clare, you were the only person in our relationship who had an issue with sex. I told you a thousand times that I was fine with waiting, and you never believed me because it was you who wasn't fine with it, and you could never accept that what you wanted to do and what you were supposed to do were two very different things."

"That's not true," I said, though there was more than a grain of truth in his statement.

"I just don't understand what changed. You ran off to Vancouver with barely an explanation and you never came back. You told me you loved me but when I was willing to give up everything I had here to be with you, you rejected me. You took off in the middle of the night and you never talked to me again. I called you for months, Clare. I sent texts and emails. Cece took my credit card away so that I couldn't buy a plane ticket."

"I couldn't..." I tried to begin but the tears were gushing down my face. "I loved you, Eli. But you wanted forever, and I knew I couldn't give that to you. It wasn't fair of me to give you hope so I left and cut off all ties because I knew if I heard your voice or felt your touch I wouldn't be able to stay away."

Eli was looking at me with such intensity that it took my breath away. "I wanted forever. But I would have taken all the moments I could get. You shouldn't have taken that from me."

"It would have happened anyway. I was trying to save us more heartbreak later on."

Eli's penetrating stare turned thoughtful. "You know, I ran into your Dad, a couple of months after we broke up. He was carrying a baby in one of those chest holder things." His eyes narrowed. "He didn't know that we had broken up."

I shrugged. "I don't talk to him much."

"Why didn't you tell me? Do you have any idea how stupid I felt that I didn't know your dad had eloped and had a kid? That your mom had sold the house? I don't understand why you didn't tell me."

"Because I was devastated. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have a father who impregnated a girl who is younger than my older sister? She was his secretary. And now I have a baby brother, who I don't even know how to deal with, because my father basically abandoned me."

"Okay, so you were embarrassed. But you should have told me. I was your boyfriend, Clare. I would have been there for you."

"Oh yeah? For how long? A few years? Long enough to raise a family together before we realized we were too different and fell apart? My parents loved each other once too, but love isn't enough to make a relationship work, Eli. Do you have any idea how bad things are for my mother right now? She works two jobs to afford rent on a shitty studio apartment since my father, the lawyer, can't afford to do the right thing for her now that he's got a new kid."

"I'm sorry," Eli said plainly. "I'm sorry your dad is a jerk, and I'm sorry that it's hard on your mom, and I'm really sorry that they have hurt you so much. But Clare..." His voice cracked and he took a moment to collect himself. "We are not your parents."

"You don't know that."

He shook his head. "I know how to do math. I know that your parents were only married for a little over six months when Darcy was born. I know that while they may have loved each other, that wasn't the reason they got married."

"And it would have been different for us? I was eighteen, Eli. I barely had a chance to breathe inside my parents' house; I hadn't even learned how to live. My parents were only a year older than we were when they got married."

"But they had a kid! Your mom dropped out of college! Everything would have been different for us. We could have learned how to live together. I wasn't asking you to give anything up; I just wanted you to let me be a part of it."

"You were asking me to do the impossible."

Eli laughed. "_You_ are impossible. You hold yourself and everyone around you to absurdly high standards and when they fail to meet them, you cut them out of your life. Face it, Clare. Your dad screwed up but he's still your dad. And you were so afraid to fail that you lost the best thing you ever had. I know I couldn't guarantee you forever – trust me, if there's anyone who knows that, it's me. But it was a risk I was willing to take for you, and you threw it all away."

I didn't blame Eli for being angry at me, but I resented the implication that it was _all_ my fault. "You can't blame everything bad that happened in our relationship on me. You weren't perfect either. As I recall, you were the one who cheated."

Eli's eyes flashed. "No. I am done apologizing for that. I didn't sleep with her, and I was so drunk at the time, that if I were a woman you'd have dragged me down to the police station to report it as date rape."

He stood up and put some distance between us. "And at least I was honest with you. I called you the next morning during the worst hangover of my life and begged you for forgiveness. And I moved out of the dorms so that I'd never make another bad decision like that again. You cheated on me and you couldn't even tell me."

I stood too, not wanting him to have the upper hand. "What are you talking about?"

He came over to me and held up my left hand. "You slept with someone. You weren't wearing your purity ring when you came back for Christmas."

"Eli, are you serious?" I wrenched my hand from his. "I took off the ring because it was a stupid, childish symbol and I was an adult. It had nothing to do with the status of my virginity. I never even looked at another guy when I was with you.."

He sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands. When he emerged he looked noticeably relieved. "I've spent the last four years thinking you were sleeping around behind my back."

"Eli," I said softly. "You know I wouldn't do that."

"You're right," he said. "I'm an idiot."

I sat down on the couch next to him, though we weren't close to touching. "You were angry and hurt. I can see why you'd jump to conclusions. It wasn't like I was completely honest with you about everything else."

Eli stood up as if he were finished with a job interview. "Well, I guess this is good. We finally have some closure."

"Wait, what?" I wasn't ready for this to be over. I stayed seated, looking up at Eli for an explanation.

"This is what you came here for, right? To talk over what happened between us?"

"I don't..." I broke off, not sure how to respond. I wanted to discuss our relationship but now that we'd done that I still felt unsatisfied. Things weren't finished between us but I wasn't sure how to express that.

Eli eyed me pensively. I watched the expressions change on his face: Confusion. Curiosity. Hope. I looked away for a moment because that was too powerful, and returned to find a look of anger.

"What do you want from me, Clare?"


	6. Just

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**This is the last chapter that begins with an excerpt. I'm glad that you've liked them overall. In fact, your overwhelming support for this fic has really been incredible. Thanks so much!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

An excerpt from Morning by Clare Edwards

In August, once her summer class ended, Jane found a studio apartment in a rundown building not far from campus. It was cheap, furnished, and did not require a roommate, which suited Jane just fine.

She was proud to pull out her checkbook and pay the deposit. She could afford the rent out of her student loans, and her job at the university library would cover food and other necessities as long as she was careful.

She was pleased that at 20 she had accomplished many adult tasks: buying pots and pans, hanging up curtains, assembling an IKEA bookshelf. The instructions for that project had suggested that two people were required for the task, but she'd done it on her own – even if it had taken five hours of sweat, frustration and the occasional appearance of the F word.

Jane was sitting at her small kitchen table, eating the spaghetti she'd prepared, along with a glass of wine. Her head was buried in a book, Lady Audley's Secret, which was homework for her Victorian Literature class, and her toe was tapping to the sound of Taylor Swift's latest album. She had a late class on Thursdays, and it was already past 10 p.m.

Then the overhead light went out.

"Shit," Jane muttered. It was only recently that the word had made its way into her repertoire but it felt perfectly comfortable despite years of Sunday School lessons warning of profanity as a minor sin. She realized that she didn't actually own a flashlight, and her apartment was so small she hadn't bothered to buy a lamp.

She stumbled over to the bathroom, glad her apartment hadn't gotten too messy and flipped the switch. It illuminated the large room just enough that she could see, but she still had a lot of reading to do so this couldn't wait until morning.

After a trip to the street corner convenience store, she returned with a pack of CFL lightbulbs and a brand new flashlight. Unfortunately, she didn't think of buying a step stool because her kitchen chair wasn't tall enough to lift her petite body to the light. She piled up a stack of literary anthologies on the chair but realized that it wasn't close to stable enough and it would probably be a bad idea for her to fall off the chair and break her neck.

She took out her cell phone, wondering if this were the type of thing that fell under the jurisdiction of a landlord. She recalled the gruff, irritable man who had pushed her to sign her lease quickly because he needed to get back to a poker game, and ruled him out. She scrolled down the names in her cell phone, realizing she hadn't called most of them in quite a long time. Adrian and Alexis back in Toronto. Brian and Chris and David, all failed relationships from her foray into . Her sister Helen in Uganda. She scrolled past the Ms quickly, as the absence of a certain name always made her a bit wistful.

She realized there was no one she could call.

"Maybe someone here has a ladder," she said.

Jane hadn't met anyone who lived in her building, other than a grumpy divorced lady who seemed to do laundry at the exactly same time as Jane and who had no filter on her comments about her ex-husband, her lacking sex life, or her crappy job. The first two doors Jane knocked on were unanswered but at the third, just down the hall from her, a handsome young man answered.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said. "But my overhead light went out, and I can't reach it to change the bulbs. Do you happen to have a ladder I could borrow?"

He laughed. "I don't have a ladder in my tiny studio apartment, but I am 6'3. I'm sure I could change it for you."

Jane felt dumb for not realizing how tall he was or that her request was pretty absurd. "Oh, thanks. I really appreciate it."

He followed her back to her apartment and she wished that she hadn't changed into her sleep clothes after class. "You go to the university?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, wishing she had a better response.

"Me too," he said. "I'm getting a PhD in Psychology."

"English," she said softly. "Undergrad."

He gave her a look of surprise as she unlocked the door. "Undergrad, really? And you're living here on your own?"

He grabbed the kitchen chair and stepped onto it, reaching the light fixture with ease and taking off the glass shade. Jane stood under him, holding the new bulbs, glad she had made her bed that morning. "I wasn't a big fan of dorm life."

"Really? I loved living in the dorms. If there was a grad school dorm, I'd live there."

"I think some schools have that."

He started screwing in the bulbs. "Yeah, but it would probably be filled with boring people who study all the time."

Jane blushed. She was pretty sure that was a good description of her.

He stepped off the chair and looked up at the light. "Want to make sure it works?"

"Oh, sure," she said, embarrassed. She flicked the switch by the door and the light glowed. "Thanks so much..." she hesitated, realizing she didn't know his name.

"I'm Jack," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

"Jane," she said. She took a step back, and he took the opportunity to look around her apartment.

"This is much nicer than mine," he said, gazing at her bookshelves. "You've got curtains and everything. All I've got is three weeks worth of laundry on the floor."

"I did mine yesterday," she admitted. "It usually doesn't look this clean."

He pulled a copy of Leaves of Grass off the shelf. "I love this," he said. "I took this class on sexuality in American Literature in undergrad because I had to fill a lit requirement and I figured it would be easier to do a class that focused on sex. I ended up really liking everything I read, but this was my favorite."

Jane smiled. It was her favorite too. "That sounds like an interesting class. Did you go to Vancouver for undergrad? I don't remember seeing that in the course catalog."

He shook his head. "University of Toronto. I'm from Ottawa originally. Wanted to stay back east for grad school, but I did a little too much partying and my GPA was shit. Didn't get in to U of T for grad. I like it here though."

She turned away. She wondered briefly if Matthew had taken that class. It sounded like something he'd love.

"Hey, would you want to go out for coffee sometime? Seeing as we're neighbors and I'm new in town."

That sounded like a date. Dates did not go well for Jane.

But he was smiling and there was a warmth behind his eyes and he liked Whitman and this was the first conversation she'd had in almost two weeks.

"Sure. How's tomorrow?"

* * *

><p>"What do you want from me?" Eli repeated. "Because from where I stand, you walked out on me, cut off all contact, moved across the country and have spent the last four years forgetting that I exist. And now you're here and I just..."<p>

He let out a humorless laugh. "You're telling me you ended things because you were afraid of screwing things up and ending up like your parents, but then I read your book and after our break up, you barely even mention me. You went on dates with all these guys, but you hardly gave me another thought. And it makes me wonder if everything you're telling me is total bullshit. If you were afraid of starting a future with someone, why did you date all those guys? Or was it just me you didn't want to be with?"

I melted at the look of pain on his face. "No, Eli, I promise you. I wanted to be with you, but I just couldn't. But the other guys I dated, they meant nothing to me. I know I wrote a lot about it in the book, but that's because these absurd, ridiculous dates were the only thing in my life that was even remotely humorous."

He didn't look convinced. "I was miserable in Vancouver. I hated my roommates and I hated my classes. I hated my father and I was trying to avoid my mother because she was such a wreck that every conversation made me so...angry. I woke up every morning missing you and I didn't have any friends. I moved out on my own and it only got worse. I was lonely so I tried online dating because there were so many hours of the day, and I had nothing to fill them."

"I know how that feels," he said softly.

I'd regretted breaking up with Eli every moment since it happened, but never more than this one. We were both so lost, and I knew that even with my doubts about relationships and whether they could survive, we would have been better off together. If I had said yes to Eli's proposal, if I had allowed him to follow me to Vancouver, if we had set up a life there together...it might not have been perfect. It might not have lasted forever. But the moments of happiness that we would have shared would have made it all worth it.

"Do you still talk to Alli?"

I winced as I thought of my bubbly old friend. "No. She never forgave me for leaving. We called each other a few times that first year, but she got pissed off at me when I wouldn't come home for her 19th birthday party, and we haven't really spoken since."

"Have you been back to Toronto at all?"

"Nope. It's been more than four years." I almost didn't want to ask my next question, since I felt so bad for abandoning my former best friend. "Do you talk to Adam?"

Eli shrugged. "Once in a while. It's not like it was. I think I saw him once last year. He wanted to show off his new girlfriend. She was really hot, but kind of dumb; I can't really see that working out."

Eli cleared his throat. "I know he'd love to hear from you."

I would love to hear from Adam too. But when I left, I knew Eli would need him, and I knew I had unfairly put Adam in the middle of our drama for way too long. "It's been a long time," I said noncommittally.

"The character Rosalie in your book...she sort of reminds me of Adam. Just the way she talks and how supportive she is."

"He was definitely part of my inspiration. I made the character a girl, though, because I didn't want to introduce any of that sticky "Will they? Won't they?" tension by giving Jane a male best friend."

"She isn't based on your best friend out there?"

What best friend?, I wanted to say. "It's fiction, Eli. Not every detail is taken from my life."

"Is Jack real?" he asked suddenly.

I stared at him, realizing what he was getting at. "Why don't you just ask me what you really want to ask? You want to know whether I'm still a virgin."

He didn't respond, so I continued, my voice raising in anger. "I dated loads of guys, and they'd stick around for a few dates but they always left me. They made excuses or they stopped calling, but I knew what it was about. And finally I decided to give in and have sex with John on the third date and he stuck around a little longer, but he ended up leaving too. And I decided I was done with men."

I glared at him. "So to answer your question, yes Eli, I've been fucked. In more ways than one."

Eli looked depressed and disappointed. "What's the matter? Annoyed someone else got there first?"

"Yes, but not for the reason you're thinking. It's not some sort of caveman instinct. It's just..." He reached for my hand. "I know how much that meant to you. And it sucks that it wasn't with someone you really loved. You wanted to wait and even if you didn't make it til marriage, it should have meant something."

I could feel tears prickling my eyes and pushed his hand away in annoyance. "Please, I bet you've had tons of meaningless sex in the past four years."

He shook his head. "I had a girlfriend for a few months after we broke up. And there was one other girl, but she was a mistake."

Two girls? That was it? "One night stand?"

He looked ashamed. "More than one night, but just as much of a mistake."

"What happened with your girlfriend?"

He turned away from me for a moment. "She got sick of me once I dropped out of school and moved down to my parents' basement and spent all of my time writing."

"Did you love her?"

He shook his head. "She wasn't you."

I felt that pang in my heart again, and wondered if it were possible for him to still be in love with me, all these years later. "Do you still live with your parents?"

"Yeah."

I tried to picture Eli huddled over his laptop in their cold, dark basement. We had stored some of the boxes of stuff that he couldn't bear to part with down there. It sounded really awful.

"How much stuff is in your room?"

"A lot."

I'd grown accustomed to the cocky, self-assured version of himself that Eli presented to the rest of the world. But this was the Eli that only I got to see, when we were alone, when he was at his most vulnerable. I could picture his room, teeming with items that would be considered meaningless to any other person. When we were in high school, he'd come to terms with his disorder, and worked hard to fight against it. His room had never been perfect, but between his therapist, his parents and me, we'd helped him work through it.

He looked ashamed to have lost himself again.

I wanted to take him into my arms. The need to touch him was so powerful that I was literally shaking.

It wasn't my place, though. It wouldn't be fair of me to comfort him. But perhaps I could take his mind off it.

"So what's next for you?" He looked at me with heavy eyelids, confused by my question. "Your book come out in October, you're sitting on a huge advance, and if the buzz is correct, you're going to have a huge hit on your hands. What are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "My publisher wants to send me on a book tour. Maybe 12 cities between Canada and the States." He gave me a look I really couldn't place. "One of them is Vancouver."

"Have you started writing your next book?"

"No, but don't tell my agent," he said. "I haven't really found any inspiration yet."

I knew exactly what he meant. "I'm in the same boat."

He laughed. "Yeah, next time we might have to come up with novels that are actually filled with fiction."

I grinned and his hand reached up as if he were going to cup my cheek before he realized he couldn't do that and brought it back down to his lap. "I've really missed you," he admitted.

I could only be honest with him. "I have too."

A small smile appeared on his face before he turned away. "Cece and Bullfrog want me to move out. They think it's ridiculous for a guy who's a millionaire to live in his parents' basement."

"I can't believe you're a millionaire." It felt a little awkward to discuss Eli's newfound money, but he had brought it up.

"Well, I'm not yet, with taxes and everything. But the pre-order numbers have been high, so...it's probably pretty likely."

"If you move out, where would you go? Would you stay in Toronto or move out to the suburbs or run away to Tahiti?"

I wanted to lighten the conversation but Eli didn't even crack a smile. "I've been thinking about buying a place, a condo maybe, downtown. But I don't really know what my future holds so it's hard to figure out what I need."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I could probably buy a pretty nice place. I'm not looking for anything too fancy, but I wandered around a few open houses and I saw these beautiful apartments with three or four bedrooms and shiny stoves and giant bathtubs."

"I've lived in a crappy studio apartment for three years. That sounds like heaven to me."

Eli looked down at his hands. "It just sounds lonely to me."

Lonely. That was the word that perfectly described the past four years of my life. And maybe it was unfair but I didn't want to feel that way anymore.

I reached out and entwined my fingers in his.

I held my breath as I waited for him to push me away, to yell at me for leading him on.

He didn't look at me. But he let me keep holding his hand.

"Do you…?" he paused, took a deep breath and looked me. "Do you regret what happened between us?"

"Every single day of my life."

A tear slipped down his cheek and I reached up to wipe it away. He gave me a soft smile that just made me melt, and the floodgates I had been trying to hold back crashed open.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "I hate myself for hurting you. I hate that I lost my family and my friends and I hate that I ran away. I hate being alone all the time and that I only have myself to blame. I hate my job and my apartment and my life. I hate sitting here next to you and seeing how beautiful you are and how much pain you're in and how I can't fix it for you. I hate that I've lost four years of my life that I could have spent with you."

My voice broke. "I know you'll never forgive me for what I've done but I have loved you every single moment since you made me scream in public and that has never stopped."

"Clare," he whispered, his face crumpling. He tugged on my hand and I threw myself onto his lap and into his arms.

He held me, strong and steady, as I fell apart. My tears trailed down his neck, but he just pressed me closer. His fingers skimmed my back and it felt so nice that I just let myself cry, releasing all of the emotions I'd kept locked inside for so long.

A few long minutes later, I pulled back just enough so that I could look at him, to try and figure out what he was thinking. The part of me that was embarrassed that I'd thrown myself at my ex-boyfriend wanted to leap off his lap and run to the airport.

But every other part of me wanted to be right here, right now.

Especially when I saw the look he was giving me.

"I wish I was seventeen right now," Eli said, his stare penetrating my blue eyes.

"Why?" I asked, breathless.

"So I could do this," he said as he leaned in and kissed me.


	7. Talk Show Host

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**There will be two more chapters after this one. This one was really hard to write for some reason. Somehow I think you'll enjoy it anyway.**

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

If you had told me a few days ago, that I would be in a New York City hotel, kissing Eli Goldsworthy so intensely that my head was spinning, I never would have believed you.

I scarcely believed it now, and it was really happening.

His fingers tangled in my curls as his mouth opened against mine, each kiss more aggressive than the last. I had already kicked of my shoes and straddled his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist, and his hands kept pushing my skirt higher so that he could pull me in closer.

As incredible as it felt to kiss him, I couldn't help but compare it to the last time we'd made out over four years ago. I was surprised at how much it felt just like coming home, but it was different. It was sexy and intense and so…mature. We were bringing four years of heartbreak and failed relationships and loneliness and wisdom and it made everything more desperate and more passionate that I ever knew was possible.

I was trying to figure out how we could take this to the next level when Eli gently pushed back on my shoulders. "Wait…I can't do this."

I could feel the tears rushing to my eyes again. "Please…" I whispered, desperate for him to kiss me again. "I need you."

He took my cheeks in his hands, my tears forming rivers through his fingers. "I can't do this if this is just a one time thing. You mean too much to me. I can't be with you if I have to let you go."

My heart broke yet again. "I want more than one night with you, Eli. But I fly home to Vancouver tomorrow and you'll be in Toronto and I don't know how to make that work."

"But do you want it to work? Do you want to be with me?"

"More than anything."

He grinned momentarily, but I still felt uncomfortable and his smile dropped a bit. "We can work out the logistics later, but do you promise this is the start of something between us? Not the end?" he pressed.

I took his face into my hands, mirroring his hold on me. "I want to be with you for as long as you'll have me."

No response was needed. Eli hands crept from my face to my breasts as his tongue swiped mine. I whimpered at his gentle touch, wishing that we could take off all our clothes and remove the barriers between us.

I tore my lips from Eli's and his mouth immediately latched onto my neck. "We should take this to your bed," I moaned.

Eli grinned, and I squealed, as he gripped me by my thighs and stood up with me still wrapped around him. I expected him to put me down or carry me to the bed, but he took a few steps and balanced me on the edge of the dining table. "Who needs a bed? I seem to remember how much you liked my kitchen table." My eyes widened as Eli leaned down to kiss me, pushing me back against the flat surface.

I vividly remembered the night Cece and Bullfrog had left us alone and I'd told my mom I was staying with Alli. Eli had been busy studying for finals so we hadn't seen much of each other, and we made up for lost time. I had brought over the ingredients for innocent ice cream sundaes, never imagining that I would end up naked on Eli's kitchen table, while he licked syrup and whipped cream off my body before eating me out and giving me a toe-curling orgasm.

"But we don't have any chocolate syrup," I purred.

"I told you we could order room service."

His hands were gripping my thighs under my skirt, and I wanted to feel his tongue all over my body, syrup or not. "How about we save the dessert for later, and move this to your bed? I'll let you take my dress off."

Eli took a step back and held out his hand. "That's a compromise I can live with."

He led me to the bedroom and spun around so he could pull me back into his arms. He fingers gripped my back with so much force that it felt uncomfortable. I pulled on his arms until he allowed me to take his hands in mine and take a small step back. "You don't have to hold on so tightly. I promise you, Eli. I'm not going anywhere."

He gave me a soft smile and kissed my temple. "I just can't believe you're here with me." His fingers found the zipper at the side of my dress and slipped it down, slowly and carefully. He tugged at the shoulder. "How do you get this thing off?"

I giggled. "Over my head." I raised my arms and he grabbed the hem and started to raise the fabric. It got caught on my hips and then my breasts and Eli yanked impatiently. I bent over and wiggled to try to get unstuck and by the time the dress was over my head, we were both in hysterics.

Eli threw the garment on the floor and his eyes roamed my body. He snapped the elastic on the side of my purple satin panties, and I was glad I had picked out something presentable and matching this morning. "These are new." He was looking at me like I was the only girl in the world.

"You remember all of my underwear?"

"I remember everything," he said huskily.

"I remember some things too," I teased, slipping my hands underneath his t-shirt and drawing him closer. "I recall how much you liked it when I kissed you here." I stood on my tip toes to suck on his neck right at the spot that I knew drove him crazy, and he rewarded me with a low moan. I pushed his shirt up enough that he couldn't ignore it, and as he removed it, I started fumbling with his belt.

He kissed me, but I couldn't focus and pulled back. I had to look at the belt to undo it before tugging futilely on the button on his jeans. "Having trouble?" he teased.

"I'm a little out of practice," I admitted with a blush.

"I'm glad," he laughed.

I gave up on his button and slid my hand down cupping him through his jeans. "If I can't get your pants off, I'm just going to have to tease you."

"As nice as that feels, I think I'm going to have to help you out." He unbuttoned and unzipped but he let me pull his jeans down his legs. He stepped out of them and tugged off his socks using his feet, wobbling a little. "Where were we?" Eli grinned and answered his own question, "Ah, yes, I believe you were trying to touch my cock."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Nah, I changed my mind." I jumped onto Eli's unmade bed and he followed, pushing the covers down with his feet.

"I bet I can make you change it again," he said, his eyes darkening as he hovered over me.

"Challenge accepted."

He pulled my bottom lip between his teeth and I moaned at the sensation. He pressed his body down on me and I arched into him, trying to memorize the feeling of his skin against mine. He skimmed my body with his fingertips, gently caressing my hips and stomach and neck and cleavage. His tongue slipped down my body and he slid the strap of my bra down to expose my nipple. As he nibbled and sucked, I reached back and unhooked my bra, not wanting to have anything between us.

He moved his head out of the way so I could remove it. "You really want this," he commented in awe. He moved one hand between my legs and I let out a soft moan.

"You have no idea how much," I whimpered, his hands still stroking me.

"I'm pretty sure I do," he laughed. He tugged my underwear down my legs and sat between them, gazing at me with such intensity that I was certain my whole body was blushing.

"Come back here."

He shook his head. "No."

He lay down and my breath quickened as he pulled my legs over his shoulders. He gave a tentative lick and closed his eyes. "God, you taste exactly the same." Any hesitation he had was over and he dove back in, using his tongue to drive me insane. He slipped a finger into me and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

The last guy to go down on me was, in fact, Eli. I hadn't let it get that far with most of the men I had dated and John had never offered. The fact that Eli and I had never slept together meant that oral sex was the thing I associated most with him, because for years that was what we had done together. The image of his face between my legs was the one I most regularly went to when I was alone and needed to get off.

It felt so good not to be alone anymore.

The tension was building and I could no longer control my cries. "Fuck, Eli," I moaned and I could feel him grinning. He picked up the pace with his tongue, thrust his fingers faster, and he pushed me over the edge. I arched all the way off the bed, screaming his name and he held on to my hip to keep me in place. He left me with a few gentle licks and then sat up, looking pleased.

I reached for him, wanting to return the favor, but he seemed distracted. He hopped off the bed, picked up the t-shirt he had been wearing and wiped his face, and then got a devious smile on his face. "Come here."

"Come back to bed," I whined.

"Trust me," he said, and I stood up, a little wobbly. He led me across the room. "Stay here."

I watched him in confusion as he walked closer to the windows, and I realized what he was going to do. "Eli, no!" I yelled as he pulled the curtain open, exposing the floor to ceiling windows. I tried to cover myself with my hands as Eli came over to me.

"What is wrong with you?" I squealed. We'd been talking for long enough that it had gotten dark outside and I knew the lights of the hotel room meant that anyone who was looking out their windows would be able to see us.

"Come on, Clare. We're here together on a beautiful night in New York City." He tugged my hands away from my body, exposing me once more.

"Yeah, and I'm the one the whole city is seeing naked."

He slipped off his boxers. "Better?"

"Marginally."

He moved behind me placed his hands on my waist, pushing me forward gently until I was directly in front of the window. I took in the view of the city, trying not to think about the number of people who could see. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I could feel him pressing against my back.

"Clare, I want the whole world to watch me make love to you." He nudged me forward until I was touching the window, my nipples pebbling against the cold glass. His lips found my neck and I had to hold onto the window to keep myself from swooning.

So that was it. We hadn't said so in so many words, but we both knew where this was headed. There was no purity ring standing in our way, no virginity that needed to be maintained. We could finally forgo the pretenses and explore each other in a way we'd wanted to for so long but never let ourselves before.

I had always thought I'd be nervous but all I felt was bliss.

I was glad Eli hadn't asked me like he had during all of our awkward high school fumblings, "Is this okay? Are you sure?" I liked his confidence. I liked how he placed his hands on me without a trace of shyness and how he kissed me like this was the only thing in the world that he wanted to be doing.

I tugged on his hand and he released my neck with a popping noise. I knew there would be marks all over me tomorrow, reminders of a night of passion that were a little embarrassing at my age. His fingers grazed the spot as he smiled in amusement. I wiped his smugness off his face with another powerful kiss, while I pushed on his shoulders to lead him back to the bed.

He let me climb on top of him for a few moments as my hand wrapped around him and my body rubbed against his. He tangled our legs together and flipped me over.

I wanted him inside me more than anything.

He seemed to have the same thought, as his eyes darkened and he brought us closer together. But all of a sudden he stopped, groaned in frustration and moved off me, laying down beside me and burying his face in the pillow.

"What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed.

He looked at me embarrassed. "I don't have casual sex."

My eyes widened. "I don't think this can be described as casual."

He laughed. "No, I know that, but…"

I cut him off. "And that's a good thing, in my book. If you had been with tons of women in the past four years, I'm not sure…"

"Clare," he shook my arm so I'd stop babbling and look at him. "All I'm trying to say is that since I don't have sex with random strangers, I didn't bring any protection with me."

"Ohhh!" I felt better immediately though I really didn't want to wait until we made a trip to Duane Reed. Four years was long enough.

"Unless…" He gave me a tender look. "Are you still on the pill?"

He gently caressed my abdomen, and I could feel another tear coming to my eye. I remembered so vividly the conversation we had after he had discovered my birth control pills and thought that meant I was ready to sleep with him. I hated disappointing him and telling him I was only on them to control my painful periods, but he was so sweet about it, stroking my stomach just like he was doing now, and that was the moment I knew for sure that I was in love with him.

It warmed my heart that it meant so much to him too that he'd remembered that moment so many years later.

"I am…are you…" There was no delicate way to put this. "Okay?"

He nodded. "You too?"

I'd always used condoms with John but I had gotten tested after our breakup just to make sure. "Yeah."

He looked nervous for the first time, and I brushed the hair out of his eyes. "It's me, Eli. You don't have to be scared."

"I've just wanted this for so long. I don't want to disappoint you."

"You could never."

He still seemed reluctant as he moved back on top of me. "Clare," he whispered. "I love you."

It occurred to me that we'd only said those words in the past tense today, but I knew exactly how I felt. "I love you too."

He kissed me again and I spread my legs to accommodate him but he didn't try to enter me and I was getting tired of waiting. I took him into my hand and brought him to my entrance. "Eli," I moaned. "I want you to fuck me."

He penetrated me immediately and I whimpered at the feeling of him filling me the way I'd been dreaming of for years. "Oh, Clare," he moaned. "Fuck." I met his thrusts as he gripped my ass, grinding us closer together.

I felt like my body was on fire, and his hands only intensified everything. He leaned down to suck on my nipple and pulled out just enough that he was stroking me with just the tip of his penis. His light teasing felt delicious but it only made me want more. I pushed back on his shoulders until he was sitting up and I straddled him, wanting to be in control.

I grabbed on his shoulders so hard I knew my fingernails were digging into him, but that just seemed to spur him on. Both of his hands cupped my ass and brought me down onto him and he jerked up to meet me. Our tongues were battling, sloppy and forceful in a way that could only be good during sex. He leaned back and I fell over on top of him, stretching out over his body.

I could tell he was getting close from the noises he was making and I was pleased when he reached between my legs and started stroking me. I leaned down to kiss him, holding myself up with my forearms to give him enough room. I picked up the pace with my hips and his finger twirled over my clit and I let out a squeal that made him grin.

"Please, Clare, come for me," he whispered, cupping my breast with his free hand and tugging on my nipple. He was grunting and I was screaming and soon I was shaking over him, unable to believe just how amazing he was making me feel.

"Oh, Eli. Ohhhh!" I yelled as I came and he followed soon after with a moan.

I collapsed into his arms and he held me. I didn't want to let him pull out; I didn't want this moment to end. I nipped his jawline and covered his chest with tiny kisses, while he stroked my back and my hair.

I'm not sure how long we lay together, basking in the afterglow and each other's presence. After a while, it got uncomfortable and I moved to his side, pulling the covers back over us.

"I don't really want to get out of bed," he said finally, and I looked up at him. "And I really don't want to suggest that you put any clothes on." His hand followed the curves of my naked side and I shivered. "But I'd like to take you out to a nice dinner. There's so much I want to know about you and what you've been through these past four years, and I want to get started right now."

I grinned, glad we were on the same page. "We could always get naked again once dinner is over."

"I like how you're thinking," he teased, kissing me on the nose. "A night on the town, then a night in my bed…" He trailed off, frowning. I knew he was worried about what came after that.

So was I.

"Then whatever comes after that…as long as I'm with you," I said.

His fingers found mine under the covers, and I squeezed, not wanting to ever let him go.


	8. Black Star

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**So, I was wrong and there will actually be two more chapters after this one. I'm sorry for the delay in posting but this has been difficult to write for some reason. Thanks to Sarenka222 for helping me fix this.**

**I also don't want to be ungrateful but I was feeling a little unsure of my last chapter and though it had a large number of pageviews it didn't receive nearly as many reviews as previous chapters. I'm used to most of my reviews coming from my friends, but I'd just like to remind you that even self-confident fanfic writers like me can get insecure and appreciate reviews that let them know they are on the right track (or constructively, the wrong track). Thanks to those of you who have reviewed this story and my other ones. It's greatly appreciated.**

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><p>Chapter 8<p>

Eli took me to a Thai restaurant that his editor had recommended that was a few blocks away from our hotel. Neither of us had been to New York City in years so we weren't that familiar with the restaurants, but this one seemed like a nice fit for us. Casual, quiet, and low key. The perfect place to celebrate a romantic rekindling.

It was hard to know where to start. I felt like I'd missed so much of his life, and I wanted to know everything, and I could tell he was feeling with same way because he kept peppering me with questions about my life.

"I graduated in May of last year and it took me until November to get my job. I had to take a waitressing job to afford my apartment, and I was feeling desperate and when I saw the marketing job, I thought it would be a paycheck and hopefully a stepping stone to something else. My boss is out on the longest maternity leave known to man, but she still micoromanages me even though we've never actually met. I'm basically doing two jobs for the low, low wages of a marketing intern."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Not even a little bit. It's pretty much a nightmare and there've been a few days where I've actually considered going back to waitressing just to get out of there."

"What would you rather be doing?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to get into editorial, but I'm starting to wonder if I even belong in the industry. I've been trolling job sites but with the economy, there's not much out there in any field."

"Maybe I could talk to my editor. See if she knows of any openings…"

And while that sounded great, that meant work visas and all sorts of complicated effort. "I don't really want to move to New York." Especially if Eli wasn't there.

Eli reached across the table and took my hand. "I'm sure you'll find something."

"Are you working? Or are you just a slave to your laptop?"

He grinned. "The latter. Fortunately, Cece and Bullfrog supported me through my mad writer phase."

"Must be nice," I said softly.

He gave me a look of sympathy and squeezed my hand before going back to his meal.

"Do you talk to you parents at all? Or Darcy?"

I gulped at the sound of her name. It wasn't something that came up very often. "When I got my check with my advance, I called Darcy and offered to pay for a flight to Vancouver so she could come visit me. She didn't want to come. I haven't seen my sister in eight years and she didn't want to visit me."

"Why? What reason did she give you?"

"Oh, the usual. She was too busy saving the world, and if she were going to fly to Canada, she'd go to Toronto and visit Mom and Dad. Which is total bullshit because she calls them less than I do, and she didn't even come home for Grandma's funeral."

"I can't believe she hasn't come home for Christmas or something."

"Yeah, well. If you think I screwed up in dealing with our less than perfect family, you should meet my super-judgmental sister. I was fourteen when she left. She doesn't even know who I am."

"I'm really sorry, Clare. I wish there was a way to bring the two of you together."

I didn't want to talk about my sister anymore. "There's no point. My whole family is just one big mess. My dad calls me every few weeks, and I usually let it go through to voicemail because I can't stand talking to him. I talk to my mom more often, but even that is strained at best."

"I understand why you'd have issues with your father, but what happened with your mom?"

"She's just…" I shook my head. "She's just such a bitch."

Eli looked amused as I continued. "She's mad at me for leaving her and never coming home, and for being 23 and single, and for having all the potential in the world while her life has turned into a wasteland of suck. There's only so many times I can listen to her accuse me of being ungrateful when my life isn't exactly sunshine and roses either."

"Can I just tell you how much I love it that you curse now?" He leaned in conspiratorially. "When you asked me to fuck you before, it was the single best moment in my life."

My cheeks turned pink and his smile only widened. "And I love that as much as you've grown up over the past four years, you haven't lost that innocent blush."

I rolled my eyes. "You were just happy to finally have sex with me. I could have asked you to bump uglies and you would have been just as excited."

"That's probably true," he admitted. "It was pretty incredible."

I really wished we had ordered room service, because it took every bit of decorum I had not to lean over our plates of food and kiss him. "Can we talk about this later?"

He laughed. "Is that a promise?" He gave me his signature smirk. "Alright, new topic. Something that doesn't involve sex. Hmmmm…." He tapped his index finger on his chin as if he were thinking really hard. "How was university?"

It was strange that we'd only been together for my first semester, and even then, I'd already started pulling away. "Great, overall. I loved my classes and my professors were amazing. I got to read so many great books that I wouldn't have picked up on my own."

His eyes narrowed. "Lots of studying, not much social life?"

I didn't like the way he said that. "That's a little judgmental for a guy who didn't even bother to finish university, don't you think?"

"Yeah, well… It wasn't really what I planned, but I just…I couldn't do it."

"You loved it there freshman year."

"Well…things were different then."

Yeah, they were. A few times a week after my classes at Degrassi, I'd take the bus over to campus and we'd spend time in the library or coffee shop, studying for tests and writing papers. He wasn't my English partner anymore, but we'd read each other's essays and poems.

It was nice to remember those days. Eli was thriving in his classes and even though things were bad at home, his dorm room offered me a nice escape. He wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but he befriended Amy, a fellow English major who lived down the hall, who hung out with us on movie nights and dragged us out to parties. My parents were so involved in their problems that they barely paid attention to what I did, so I spent lots of nights at U of T, slipping in just before curfew or pretending to sleep over at Alli's.

"Are you still friends Amy?" I asked, then took one last bite of my chicken pad see-ew.

Eli cringed, and I felt even more confused. "Definitely not Amy," he said. "She's my ex."

"Oh." I had figured Eli had moved on after I left him; it wasn't a surprise to me that he'd had another girlfriend. But it had never occurred to me that he might have dated someone I actually knew.

"It was after we broke up. Nothing happened before that," he rushed to add, and I realized he was worried I thought he had cheated on me with her. The thought had never crossed my mind. "I was a mess, and she was there for me, and we tried to make it into something more than it was."

"How long were you together?"

He furrowed his brow. "Five months, maybe? It was nice at first; I mean, I pretty much owe her my life. But I'd already moved out of the dorm by that time and I'd kind of given up on my classes, and as much as she liked Cece's cooking, she wanted a college experience and not a mess like me. Once I told her I wasn't going back to school, she'd had enough of me. It was for the best, but it sucked to lose her as a friend. I do regret that."

Eli finished talking and looked at me expectantly. But I was still stuck on his words - I pretty much owe her my life. Was he...? Did he...?

"Did you try to kill yourself?" I asked and as soon as the words were out of my mouth I cringed and wanted to hide under the table. I couldn't believe I had asked him that in the middle of this elegant restaurant, during what was supposed to be a nice catch up dinner between the two of us.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "No, Clare, I didn't try to kill myself."

"I'm sorry; it's just, you said..."

"Look, I was really fucked up. I did a lot of stupid shit that I am not proud of. But I only said that because being with Amy gave me a reason to live, even if it was temporary. And by the time it was over, the only thing that saved me was my writing. It was bad and I was depressed, but it never... Look there's only so much emo music you can listen to and not have suicide come to mind, but I wasn't...it never got that bad."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He gave me a pained look. "I'm not going to sugarcoat things, but I'm not trying to make you feel bad. You dumped me and I was hurt. There's nothing we can do about that. But we're here now and the only thing we can do is learn from the past and move on."

"When did you get so smart?" I teased.

"I have a lot of free time, and Dr. Phil dispenses a lot of wisdom," he deadpanned.

"You're so weird."

"You love it."

"Yes, I do."

Eli paid the check, though I tried to fight him for it, and we started walking back to the hotel, hand in hand. "Do you want to stop somewhere for a drink? Or desert?" he asked.

"Let's just go back to the hotel."

He squeezed my hand. "Ready for round two?"

Ugh. My face dropped and Eli noticed my change in demeanor immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," I said, a little too quickly.

"Clare?" He tugged on my hand and brought my closer to the building we'd been walking past so people could pass us. "I'm not trying to pressure you. We can just go to sleep together or you could go back to your room if that would make you more comfortable."

I felt like Eli had spent half of his time on Earth reassuring me about our sex life. "I know, Eli."

"Then what is it?" He crossed his arms over his chest, and I knew he wasn't going to let this go.

I couldn't meet his eyes. "What you said…it's something John used to say to me. It just brought back some bad memories."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry….I didn't…I wasn't thinking." He peered at me curiously, as I sniffed back a tear. "He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

I shrugged but my sadness was written all over my face and Eli wrapped his arms around me. "Clare," he said softly. He shuffled backward and sat down on the stoop of an apartment building and pulled me onto his lap. "Talk to me."

"I'm so stupid," I mumbled, burying my face in his neck.

"No, you're not."

"I was so lonely, and I slept with him so he wouldn't leave me."

Eli's arms tightened around me. "What happened?"

"I don't know. That's the worst part. He started calling less and less and instead of going out to dinner, he'd just show up late at night at my apartment. He claimed he was busy with school, but after a while, he stopped coming by at all and started dodging my calls and I never even got an explanation. A few weeks later I ran into him in the elevator and he had this pretty, peppy blonde girl sucking his face and he never said another word to me."

I whimpered, trying to control my tears. "I slept with him and he didn't even have enough courtesy to break up with me. I gave everything to a guy I didn't even love, and he destroyed me."

I brushed my cheek against Eli's and felt the tension in his jaw. I felt bad about sharing this with him but he had to know how I felt. "And the worst part is that I know I deserved it. Because I spent all those years with you and loved you with all of my heart, and I did the exact same thing to you. I walked away from you. You were so good to me, and I left without a word. I denied you my love and my body because I was too selfish to make things work when my life was hard."

I was expecting him to say something reassuring, but he was silent and I felt like my worst fears were coming true. "Maybe I shouldn't be here. You deserve so much better than me. It's not fair of me to ask you to give me another chance when you were so perfect and I threw you away."

"I know you want to blame yourself for everything that's happened to you, but trust me when I say that how John treated you wasn't your fault, and that I am far from perfect." His voice had an edge to it and I looked at him curiously. "In fact, if you knew just what an asshole I am, you wouldn't want to be here with me."

"I don't think that's true."

Eli's eyes flashed and I stood up, not wanting to be in his arms while he was so angry. "I did the exact same thing that John did to you. I picked up a girl in a bar and I went home with her and slept with her the first night I met her. And then I did it again and again, calling her up just so I could get laid. I didn't even pretend we were dating; it was all about sex. And when I got tired of her, when I realized that a meaningless fuck couldn't fill the emptiness in my heart, I stopped calling."

I took a step back from him in shock. "I told you she was a mistake, but really, I was the mistake," he said. He stood up with a look of disgust on his face. "And it doesn't matter that she wasn't a virgin, or that she was just as much in it for the sex as I was. I treated her like she didn't matter. So if anyone doesn't deserve someone here, it's me."

He looked down at the ground. "Let's get back to the hotel."

I trailed behind him as he stalked off, trying to process what he had just told me. I hated that he had used that girl, and I felt for her, knowing what being with John had done to me. But I felt bad for Eli. Even though his views on sex were always a lot less restrictive than mine, he had only shared that with Julia and with me, whom he loved. Even with Amy, he cared deeply about her.

But as much as it was disappointing to hear this, could I really blame him? He'd made mistakes but so had I, and we'd managed to find our way back to each other. There was no reason for me to let this get between us.

I managed to catch up with him at the traffic light before we reached our hotel, and I wrapped my hand around his arm. He gave me a look of tenderness as we walked back to the hotel.

I paused outside the door to the hotel, steps away from where I had seen Eli for the first time. "Look, Eli. It doesn't matter what we've done or haven't done. It only matters what we do from here." He looked mostly reassured but didn't say anything as he led me back into the hotel, his hand gently wrapped around my lower back.

When we stepped into the elevator, he looked at me expectantly and I realized he was waiting for me to pick a floor – to go back to his room with him or go back to my room alone. The door closed behind us before I pressed a button. I ran my finger over the button for Eli's floor and looked at him seductively. "Should I stop by my room and pick up some pajamas for our sleepover?"

He crossed the elevator floor with one stride and wrapped one arm around my waist. He placed his hand over mine and pushed the button for his floor using my finger. "You don't have to wear anything when you're with me."

He pressed me up against the wall as the elevator began to rise and his fingers found the zipper on my dress. "Can we wait until we're inside your room, Mr. Exhibitionist?"

"If you insist," he said, his mouth taking mine.


	9. Exit Music

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**Just an epilogue after this. Thanks for reading!**

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><p>Chapter 9<p>

I woke up early, since the light was pouring into the room through the window we had never bothered to curtain last night. I turned to find Eli awake, lying on his side and holding his head up with his hand, his elbow pressed into his pillow.

He gave me a soft smile and leaned down to kiss me. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning." I placed my hand on his naked chest, still somewhat amazed that I was waking up in his bed. "Did you sleep okay?"

He covered my hand with his and brought it up to his mouth for a kiss. "Not really, but that's okay."

"Really? This is the best night's sleep I've had in years." I loved how Eli had remembered from the few nights we had spent together when I had lied to my parents about my whereabouts that I can't sleep if someone else is touching me. He'd held me up until the moment my eyes were fluttering closed and then let me go, moving just a few inches away so that if I needed him, I'd only have to reach out and he'd be there.

Now that we were awake, I snuggled closer to him and he slid his arm underneath the sheet and wrapped it around my bare stomach. "I've just been thinking a lot about you."

"Oh yeah? Good thoughts?"

He leaned down for another kiss. "Great thoughts." He glanced at the alarm clock over my shoulder. "What time is your flight?"

I didn't want to think about it. "Three, I think."

"Mine's 3:30. JFK?" I nodded. "We can share a cab there."

Great. That would give me a few more moments with Eli, but it wasn't enough. "I don't want to leave you."

"I've been thinking about that," Eli said. "That's what was keeping me awake."

I looked at him expectantly, holding my breath. Did he have a solution or was he just as scared as I was?

"My parents are about ready to kick me out any moment, and I don't really have a place picked out. I was thinking I could move to Vancouver. I wouldn't buy anything right away but I could get an apartment and maybe you could stay with me sometimes, until you feel comfortable enough to move in."

In a lot of ways, this was the same offer he had made me four years ago, and it terrified me almost as much as it did then. "What would you do there?"

He shrugged. "Work on my next book. I've been thinking of going back to school for a while. I've got enough money to keep me going for a long time, so I don't have to worry about a real job."

"But your school is in Toronto…"

"But you're in Vancouver."

He watched me with a sad look in his eyes. "You promised me this was the beginning, Clare. That this wasn't just one night for you."

"It's not," I swore. "It's just…"

I broke off, trying to figure out how I could fix this. "I can't ask you to move to Vancouver for me. Your whole life is in Toronto."

He gave me a wry smile. "We could both move to Winnipeg."

I rolled my eyes and he watched my face, bringing his hand up to push my curls off my forehead. "What are you thinking, Clare?"

As much as it pained me, I knew there was only one solution. "I'm thinking that I hate my job and my apartment and there's no one in Vancouver I'd even remotely call a friend, and that if I want things to work between us, I'm the one who needs to make some changes."

I closed my eyes, almost disbelieving what I was about to say. "It's been four years since I left Toronto. And I left a huge mess behind me. But…" I entwined his fingers in mine. "I think it might be time for me to come home. I'm not sure if I'm ready to deal with my family and my old friends but…it's worth it if it means I have you," I said resolutely.

He wrapped both of his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. "Are you sure?"

I nodded and a few tears trickled out of my eyes and onto his chest. "It might take me a little while. I'll have to give notice at my job and I'd be breaking my lease, and there's stuff I'd need to ship but I really don't have anywhere to send it to."

"I could fly out in a few weeks. Help you pack."

I smiled. "That sounds nice." Though I hated the thought of not being with him for a few weeks now that we'd reconnected.

He hesitated. "And maybe you could come back for a weekend and we could take a look at a few places. There's a condo I looked at last month that I know you'd love. You wouldn't have to move in right away; we could find an apartment nearby."

I bit my lip. "I don't have anywhere to stay for a weekend in Toronto. I need to make up with my parents but that isn't going to happen overnight."

"Stay with me," he said softly.

"I'm pretty sure your parents hate me more than mine do."

He looked like he was about to protest. "They…" he broke off. "They only want what's best for me, and I don't think they are going to be surprised that it's you. It might take them a little while to fully come around, but I promise you they will."

I sighed. It was one thing to believe that you'd left a trail of angry, hurt people behind you and another to have it confirmed.

"I'm scared," I admitting, nestling my head further into his chest.

"Of being with me?"

"Of coming home. Being with you is the only thing I'm not scared of."

But I knew that wasn't entirely true. I was deathly afraid of breaking Eli's heart again, of letting myself running away when things got hard. Of making such a big commitment after so many years apart. Because even though he wasn't proposing this time, he was asking me for forever, and as much as I wanted it, I was terrified that I'd end up disappointing him once again.

The difference between now and four years ago was that I was ready to take that chance.

I tried to figure out the details. "My boss is coming back next month. It wouldn't be a good idea to jump ship immediately, especially since I'm going to need a reference if I want to do something more than bagging groceries in Toronto. But if I give my notice now, and give them a month after her return before I leave, that could work."

And that would give me some time to save up. I was pretty sure my lease had a clause about paying three months of rent when you move out early. Plus a deposit on a new apartment if I didn't move right in with Eli, especially since it would probably take some time for him to buy a place. Then there would be plane tickets back and forth and shipping for my stuff. I probably had enough savings to cover most of that, but it would wipe me out and I'd be back to eating spaghetti and ramen for every meal, especially if I didn't get a job right away.

"You've got that look on your face where you're running through a million scenarios. It's okay, Clare. We don't have to make everything happen immediately."

"I know. I just need to figure out the logistics."

"What is there to figure out? You. Me. My bed. We don't need to know the exact date."

I rolled my eyes. "You were always bad at planning things."

"Here's the plan. We fly home to our respective cities. You give your job and your landlord notice. I tell my parents I'm moving out. You fly to Toronto as soon as possible so we can pick out a place to live and then I fly back with you to pack you up and bring you home with me. It's simple."

Simple. Right. "Except moving to Toronto requires both a job and a place to live, neither of which I currently have and neither of which is easy to procure."

"You'll find a job. You're brilliant, Clare. It shouldn't be a problem. And we'll find an apartment or two when you come visit."

It was easy to see how differently Eli and I had spent the past four years because he still didn't get the main point. "Yes, but apartments require money. I've got some savings, but they aren't going to stretch very far if I don't find a job right away."

He squinted at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. "You don't need to worry about money. I've got enough for both of us. Just worry about getting yourself to Toronto and we can figure out the rest. You don't need to rush to take a job you hate just to pay the bills. You can look around and find something that's perfect for you or you could even write full-time."

"Eli, that's…"

"Clare, I know you've spent the past four years doing everything on your own. I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am of how independent you are and how you've built a life for yourself without the support of your family. But if we're going to be in a relationship, you have to let yourself lean on me. Just a little bit."

He tangled his fingers in mine and leaned over to kiss my neck. The gesture was so soft and so intimate that my only response could be a small sigh.

Eli grinned. "Besides, once you're in a great job and my agent negotiates a decent contract for your next book, you can feel free to support me all you want."

"Okay," I agreed. There was no point in fighting him on this. I just wanted to be with Eli and if this would make it easier, I could accept him helping me out temporarily.

He kissed me for a minute and I wondered if we were going to stop talking when he pulled back and grinned at me. "So all that's left is figuring out where to live."

"Where's this condo I'm going to love so much?"

Eli paused, and I knew he was trying to figure out if I was planning on moving in with him right away but that he didn't want to ask. "It's in Harbourfront. Three bedrooms, two baths. Good kitchen." He bit his lip and I could tell he was trying to hold back.

"That sounds great."

He raised an eyebrow, but continued. "We could maybe turn one of the bedrooms into an office. I don't know how you like to write – maybe you need to be alone – but it would be great to have a place just for writing."

He seemed hesitant but my Eli instincts seemed to be coming back because I could tell it was just for my benefit. "Eli," I said directly and he met my eyes. "I know we're moving a little fast here considering how long we've been apart. But it doesn't make any sense for me to get an apartment on my own when I'm going to want to spend every night with you. Living together is just another thing we're going to have to figure out as it happens."

I'd known Eli for a very long time, even with the break. But I'd never seen him as happy as he was in that moment.

"Like laundry?" he said, kissing my forehead. "And grocery shopping?" He kissed my nose. "And morning sex?"

His lips met mine as his fingers tickled my sides, and I giggled and grabbed his hands, rolling on top of him, not wanting to get away.

* * *

><p>I grabbed my shampoo bottle and dropped into my toiletry bag, surveying the bathroom to make sure I had everything. I hadn't wanted to leave Eli after our morning romp, so I hadn't left myself with much time to pack up my abandoned hotel room.<p>

My suitcase was stuffed with the books I had grabbed from other publishers and I struggled to get the zipper to close. I hoped that my luggage wouldn't end up being overweight because I knew the fee was exorbitant. I tucked Eli's book into my purse, wanting to make sure it was close to me on the plane ride home.

We had agreed to meet down in the lobby to check out, but Eli hadn't arrived yet, so I went to the desk to turn in my key. I waited, looking at my cell phone to see if I should text him and tell him to get downstairs so we didn't miss our flights. Not that I would have minded spending a few more days in New York with Eli but the longer I waited, the longer it would take me to get back to Toronto for good.

I was wishing that we had gotten some lunch because my stomach was rumbling and I was really thirsty. I rolled my suitcase over to the hotel bar, hoping that they would be nice and pour me a glass of water.

"Clare?"

Oh fuck. Sitting at the bar, nursing what looked like a whiskey, was Dennis Frantz.

"Dennis…hi."

I had no idea what to say to him. The last time I saw him I kissed him and then saw Eli and ran away. "Um, sorry, I didn't call or whatever." God, I was a writer and I sounded like such an idiot.

He held up his hand. "Don't worry about it. Can I get you a drink?"

I noticed we had the bartender's attention, and said directly to him, "Just a glass of water, please."

"Laying off the margaritas?" Dennis smirked.

"Permanently," I said, wishing I was anywhere else.

"Clare?" I heard Eli's voice behind me and I whirled around. "I just need to check out; the cab's waiting outside."

If nothing else, I was happy that he looked amused by finding me talking to Dennis rather than jealous or upset. "I checked out already, so I'm ready when you are."

Eli walked to the desk, and I grabbed my water, chugging it down so I didn't have to look at Dennis's smug face. "You and Mr. Goldsworthy seem to have hit it off."

There was no use in pretending. "Did you know?" I asked, curious as to how he had pieced together our stories. Our books had similarities but he had to have figured it out some other way.

He nodded, taking another sip of his drink. His lips curled up but he didn't say a word.

What the hell was he doing here anyway? "Are you stalking us to see if we got back together?"

Dennis laughed. "No, I've got an interview with Margaret Atwood in a few minutes and she's staying here. But it is nice to have a resolution to this mystery."

He was a nice guy, flirty and sweet despite his smugness and it reminded me of the nice parts of our date. "Why did you give Eli my book? I mean, you kissed me, and I ran away from you. Why would you do that?"

He shook his head. "You forget, Clare, that I'm a book reviewer and closet chick lit fan. There's nothing I like more than an epic love story."

He leaned in and whispered in my ear as Eli approached. "You know, you have 60 mutual Facerange friends. If you want to stay anonymous, you should really change your privacy settings."

Dennis reached out and shook Eli's hand as I fumed silently, annoyed that I had given myself away. "You know, I think you guys owe me an exclusive on your follow up novels. Or maybe an interview about how life intersects with fiction?"

Eli smirked. "We'll send you an invitation to our wedding. If you want another interview, you can talk to my publicist."

He took me by the hand and we walked away. I glanced back at Dennis before we headed through the doors and saw him grinning, obviously pleased with his role as matchmaker in our real life love story.


	10. No Surprises

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Tumblr: musiksnob**

**Well, this has been quite the ride. Sorry for the epically long epilogue, but there was a lot of territory to cover.**

**This fic is dedicated to LiteraryLolita who helped me come up with the idea, and special thanks go to Sarenka222 and AlbatrossTam14 for helping me fix up this chapter.**

**Thank you for reading this story! Please review and let me know what you think.**

Chapter 10 - Epilogue

**Three years later**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Adam asked me for the third time.

"For the last time, yes," I gave him a pointed look, hoping he'd get the message and back off.

Adam sighed. "I'll go get him."

I gave myself one last check in the mirror. My lips were a shiny pale pink, and my eyes were highlighted by a light, shimmery silver shadow. I'd made sure I had waterproof mascara on, because knowing me, I'd be a dribbley mess in minutes.

"Clare, we're coming in," Adam called loudly. "Last chance to change your mind."

I shook my head as Adam came into the room, but my annoyance dropped the moment I saw Eli.

He was wearing a striking black tuxedo with a red tie and vest to match the red converse sneakers on his feet. But it was the look on his face that caught my eye.

He was looking at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Clare," he said in wonder, striding across the room to take my hands in his. "Wow." It wasn't like Eli to be speechless and I couldn't help but grin at him.

"Awww. How cute," Adam teased from the door.

"Adam, could you give us a minute?" Eli asked, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Hey, I know you guys hate tradition, but just try to wait until _after_ the ceremony to consummate. I don't think you want Pastor Daniels to find you doing it on his desk." I glared at Adam and he sprinted away, hopefully going to take his seat and leave us alone.

"What's with him? Was he trying to get you to change your mind about marrying me?" Eli asked in mock horror.

"Apparently, Adam has very conservative views on weddings and disapproves of us walking down the aisle together."

"Well this is our wedding, not his, and we can do what we want." He leaned closer to kiss me. "Although that consummation idea sounds pretty good right about now."

I placed me hand on his chest and pushed him away jokingly. "One night without me and you can't wait until later?"

"One night without you was way too long."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but agree with him. We hadn't spent a night apart since I moved back from Vancouver and into Eli's condo. I'd accompanied him on his book tours and he'd joined me on a trip to Kenya. Last night I'd slept in the guest room in my mother's apartment, but sharing a bed with Darcy wasn't exactly the same.

Eli stepped closer to me, his shoes slipping under the hem of my ballgown, and took my face in his hands. "You know, I've been dreaming about this moment since I was seventeen years old," he said huskily.

"I think you might have been the only seventeen year old boy in history to dream about his wedding," I teased.

"Well, I thought that would be the only way I'd get to sleep with you." He traced a circle around my sapphire engagement ring and that reminded me to move it to my right hand to make room for my wedding band.

"Is this how you pictured it?" I knew Eli's dream wedding, particularly back then, probably would have taken place at a rock concert rather than in a church. Even today, it was surprising to me that this had been his idea; he knew a church wedding was important to me and though he'd never come around on the God issue, he'd helped me with enough pancake breakfasts and rummage sales to forge a relationship with Pastor Daniels and convince him to perform a non-traditional wedding that was comfortable for both of us.

Eli laughed. "I only really imagined the part where I got to take your pretty white dress off."

"So I guess in about seven hours, your dream will come true."

The look he gave me melted my heart. "It already has, Clare. You're my dream come true."

I felt a tear prickling my eye. "Don't make me cry. The ceremony hasn't even started yet."

He kissed my cheek. "You look so beautiful."

The wave of emotions crashing over me was too great and I couldn't speak, so I just gave him a soft smile and reached for his hand. I could hear the music change to an instrumental version of the Beatles song "Two of Us" and I tugged on his hand. "That's our cue."

We walked down the aisle together, slipping between the murmurs and the flashbulbs. We stepped up to the altar and Darcy fixed the bottom of my dress. We had decided to keep the wedding party small, just Darcy as Maid of Honor, Bullfrog as Best Man, and my little brother Christian as ring bearer. We'd talked about including other people, particularly Adam and Alli, or perhaps Jenna's daughter Alex as flower girl, but decided it was better to keep things simple.

I noticed that Christian was shifting uncomfortably in his tuxedo shoes and fidgeting with the ring pillow and wondered if he'd make it through the ceremony without causing a scene. I hoped Dad and Catherine were paying attention so they could pull him away if needed. Bullfrog caught my eye over Eli's shoulder and winked at me as Pastor Dan began the ceremony.

Everything went by in the whirlwind. We had written the ceremony ourselves and I was pleased that things seemed to fall into place. Adam read the "Love is patient" passage from 1 Corinthians which had been my choice despite Eli's protests that it was overused and Alli gave a lovely reading of a poem by Pablo Neruda called "Your Laughter" which was a favorite of Eli's.

We had decided to spare our families from having to sing along to either a traditional hymn or a sappy love song, and the Pastor kept his sermon short. Out of respect for Eli, he had focused on the importance of love and honesty in a marriage and he only mentioned Jesus once. Eli smirked at me, his hands never leaving mine for a moment.

We'd worked on the entire ceremony together, taking pieces from the traditional church service and our own thoughts on what marriage was, but we had kept our vows a secret from each other. I waited with baited breath as Eli pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket.

"I tried to write down exactly how I felt about you but it all sounded trite and cliché. I tried to write traditional vows and swear to love and honor you, but the promises sounded empty. And I got really frustrated with myself because I'm a writer and if there's one thing I'm supposed to be able to do, it's capturing emotions with words. So, I thought, well…this is from the book I've been writing since you came back into my life."

A tear tracked down my cheek and Eli hadn't even begun. He took a deep breath and started reading.

"He knew that if he opened the door his life would change. If he opened the door, the girl he'd been waiting for would be back in his life and he'd never be able to let her go. The only option was to let her in and allow himself to fall in love again, to feel again. The anticipation rattled his heart."

"She was the girl who taught him how to love after his heart was ripped out of his chest, and the girl whose stumbles dragged him down with her. She was love and lust, heartbreak and tears. She was made of mistakes but she still was perfect in his eyes."

"His fingertips begged him to open the door so they could find her skin, the withdrawal more unbearable than any point in the past four years. All he wanted was to hold her hand. If that was the only thing he could do for the rest of his days, it was a life worth living. He'd grow old with her and hold her hand, and maybe there would be kisses and receding hairlines and babies and car payments, but as long as she was next to him, holding his hand, his life would be complete."

It took all the strength I had not to launch myself into his arms, so I squeezed his hand, to remind him that our lives were already complete.

"Clare?" Pastor Dan said.

I gave a short laugh. "I knew I should have gone first," and everyone joined me in laughter. "I'm not sure I can follow that, but I'll give it a shot." I pulled a small square of paper out of my bra and Eli smirked at me as I unfolded it.

"When I was fifteen years old, you helped me figure out who I was. You encouraged me to take risks, to speak my mind, to not be afraid to find out the truth. You taught me what love is. You showed me that kisses were the spark to set your soul on fire, and how to take comfort in your soft embrace. You turned my writing from words to works of art and helped me light my prose with emotions. And you held my hand during the most difficult moments of my life."

I took a deep breath. "When I lost you, I thought if I tried hard enough, if I wanted it enough, I could make it on my own. But because of everything I had learned from you, it was never right. Because being independent is only worthwhile when you have someone to share your successes with. And you're the only person I've ever wanted to share my life with."

"You helped me find my family and my friends again. You helped me remember myself. And I know you don't believe in miracles, but that's how the past three years with you have felt. Every day I get to spend with you is a blessing, every time you kiss me my head spins and every moment without you feels a little bit too long."

I squeezed his hand tighter, not needing to read the last part off my paper. "Eli, a long time ago, I told you that I couldn't promise you forever. But I'm here, right now, and that's exactly what I'm doing. I want to be your wife and your best friend and I want to be with you forever. I want to give you all of my love, every moment, for the rest of my life."

I could see Eli fighting back a few tears and I nodded to Pastor Dan to let him know I had finished.

"And now Eli and Clare will exchange rings."

Eli turned to retrieve the rings from Bullfrog. We'd decided that even though Christian was seven years old and well over the age of the average ring bearer that it was better to be safe than sorry in entrusting something so important to a kid.

Eli's eyes locked on mine. "I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness." He slipped the silver band onto my finger.

My voice was barely a whisper. "I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness," I repeated, sliding the ring onto his left hand. He'd taken off the skull ring in honor of the occasion, but I noticed one of his fingernails had been colored in with a black sharpie, probably when he was waiting nervously for me before the ceremony.

Pastor Dan gave one final blessing but I could barely hear it. Everything was me and Eli. It was green eyes and tangled fingers and the promise of forever that I was finally ready to make.

"You may now kiss the bride," Pastor Dan proclaimed, and Eli raised his eyebrows at me before capturing my lips in a soft, gentle kiss that only danced on the edge of inappropriate for the setting.

He only stepped back when Bullfrog jabbed him in the side and gestured at the ground. I grinned as Eli turned and stomped on a glass that was wrapped in cloth. His side of the congregation shouted "Mazel Tov!" while my Protestant family smiled in polite confusion. That was his one concession to Cece, who demanded he include a symbol of his Jewish heritage though he didn't share enough of her beliefs to consider an interfaith ceremony. I could tell from the look of joy on his face that he was glad he'd agreed to this one bit of tradition.

Eli grabbed my arm and whisked me down the aisle to applause and whistles, and led me into the small room in the narthex where moms with screaming children sometimes sat. "Is this the part where I get to steal you away and deflower you?" he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him for an intense kiss.

"I think it's a little late for that," I giggled.

He kissed me again and I felt lightheaded. I placed a finger on his lips. "Okay, we just need to get through the pictures, dancing, and cake. Then we'll go back home and make sweet, sweet love all night long."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, the glint in his eyes showing me that he had no doubt of my answer.

I leaned in, whispering in his ear. "You should see what I have on underneath this dress."

I could feel his breath stutter against my neck. "You haven't teased me this much since you were fifteen years old and wouldn't let me touch your breasts."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on. We need to meet our adoring fans."

"Wait," he said softly. I turned to look at him. "What did you think?"

One thing that had surprised me about our relationship was that Eli hadn't asked me to resume my role as editor of his stories. I'd published two books since Morning – a young adult novel about best friends who fall for the same boy, and a mystery novel about housewives with fictionally famous husbands – and Eli had helped me through draft after draft, answering my frantic emails about word choice and character motivation.

But he'd kept his own work secret, promising to let me read it once he had a complete draft. Three years later and his vows were the first excerpt I'd gotten to hear.

"It was perfect."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled and I knew he was pleased that his words worked as both a fictional piece and a promise to me. "Okay," he said. "Let's go before I start tearing up."

We'd decided against having a formal receiving line, preferring to slip out and take our pictures quickly so we could spend more time seeing people at our reception. We'd told our families to meet us after we signed our marriage license so we could drive to a local park to take a few pictures.

We walked to the Pastor's office to find Bullfrog waiting for us pen in hand, while he made a few choice comments about us not being able to wait until we got out of the church. I knew my face was as red as Eli's tie. I had never gotten used to how open Eli's parents were about sex. When I flew back from Vancouver to help Eli find a place for us to live, Bullfrog's first words to me were, "So you finally banged my son," followed by a welcoming hug.

Darcy entered the office and threw her arms around me. "That was so beautiful," she said with a happy sob. "I can't believe my baby sister is married." She repeated the gesture with Eli. Instead of congratulating him, she said, "Thank you."

I knew she wasn't referring to our marriage, but that fact that Eli was responsible for bringing us back together. He had sat me down one night two years ago and informed me that we were going to Kenya. He said I could email Darcy to let her know and work out the dates, but we were going no matter what. Our two week trip brought Darcy and me together for the first time in nine years and we spent every moment together, talking about the years we'd missed out on and getting to know each other as adults. She had visited Toronto last year to make amends with our parents and spend time with us, and I was ecstatic that she'd been able to come home for the wedding and serve as my maid of honor.

Her arms were still wrapped around his neck in a death grip and I was about to jokingly ask her to take her hands off my man when I noticed there was a ring on her left hand. "Darcy?" I exclaimed, as I looked between her and the man who'd crept up behind her.

Her face fell. "I wanted to wait to tell you. I didn't want to steal your thunder!" she wailed.

Msaki placed his hand on her shoulder. "Any chance you'll return to Lodwar for a wedding next year?"

My eyes welled up with tears. "You couldn't keep us away." I pulled both of them into a group hug.

Darcy laughed, wiping a tear of her own. "Any chance you'll come with us when we tell Mom? And Dad?"

"You're on your own there," I teased.

After the signing, we went out to the parking lot. We'd arranged for a limo so our family members wouldn't have to worry about driving, but I could see Catherine's SUV parked next to it.

"You look beautiful, Clare," Catherine beamed in her peppy way, and the sentiment seemed genuine for once.

"Thank you," I said, trying to keep my tone even. I had never quite forgiven her and my father completely, but I'd been making an effort. We spent Christmas with them last year, and by the end of it, I was actually having a good time. I leaned down to give Christian a hug. "Thanks for being my ringbearer, kiddo."

"I'm hungry," he said in the way that wasn't really cute anymore on a seven year old.

"I'm just going to take him over now. We've got some pretzels in the car." Catherine hustled him out to her car, leaving my Dad with me.

He gave me a look that was tinged with sadness, and I knew he was disappointed about my decision to walk down the aisle with Eli instead of him. But with all of the tension that hadn't entirely dissipated, I was uncomfortable giving him that significant of a role in my wedding, particularly since it left out my mother. I stepped forward to hug him, interrupting the awkward silence. "I'm looking forward to our dance," I whispered, and he kissed my cheek.

"Me too," he said softly. "I can't believe my baby girl is all grown up." He gave Eli a handshake that seemed too informal for this setting. "I think I'll hitch a ride with Catherine to the park."

I watched him walk away, wondering why he didn't want to go in the limo with the rest of us. Eli squeezed my hand. "He'll come around," he reminded me.

"Where is everybody?" I asked. I stuck my head into the limo and found Darcy and Msaka in a heated embrace. "Gross, guys." When I looked away, I saw my mother headed toward us, chatting away at Pastor Dan. "Mom's coming," I hissed and they broke apart like they were 16 year olds getting caught kissing on their parents' couch.

"Clare, I need to stop home for a few minutes. I have a run in my stockings and I'm going to change into flats because it'll be too hard to traipse across the park in these heels. David will drive me; we'll just be a few minutes late." I didn't have time to respond before she continued. "Did you tell the photographer I do not want to be in any pictures with your father? Or that child?"

"Yes, Mother," I said, annoyed that she was berating me on my wedding day.

"Yo, Mom," Darcy said, as she climbed out of the limo. "Chill out. It's Clare's wedding day."

Mom looked between us and her eyes misted up. "I'm just so happy my girls are back together." She wrapped her arms around us, and I shot Eli a look over her shoulder. He just shook his head.

It bothered me that Mom had never really accepted Eli, not when we dated in high school, and not when we got back together. She had been thrilled when I moved back to Toronto, but even though I dragged Eli to dinner and holidays with her and her boyfriend David, she barely acknowledged his existence. I would have thought the fact that we were married would have helped her get over the whole "living in sin" issue, but apparently I was wrong.

So I was beyond surprised when she released us from her hug and turned to Eli. "It was a beautiful ceremony. I really loved your vows."

"Thank you, Mrs. Edwards," Eli said. I could tell he was touched by her words.

"Call me Helen." She gave my hand a quick squeeze and walked over to David.

Eli and I exchanged looks. "Nothing like divorced parents to liven up a wedding," he joked.

"Speaking of lively parents…where are yours?"

We got our answer a moment later, as Bullfrog and Cece came bursting out of the church. They both looked a little disheveled as they sprinted toward us as fast as Cece's heels would allow, and I noticed Mrs. Anderson standing in the doorway shooting them a disapproving look.

"Sorry, sorry," Bullfrog said. "We decided to try out that little church room, but Sister Mary Magdalene caught us."

"Clare's not Catholic," Eli said. "And seriously? In the church?"

Cece grinned. "Where are your parents? Are we ready for pictures?"

"They decided to drive themselves," I said.

Bullfrog laughed. "Shit, we would have brought our car if we'd known you guys wanted to be alone."

"It's fine. Darcy and Msaka are here too," I said.

"That's cool by us," Bullfrog said. "You guys can just pretend we aren't here."

"Bullfrog," Cece admonished. "It's their wedding day. They aren't going to have an orgy in a limo."

"Yeah, or ever," Eli said. "Get in; the photographer's waiting."

He followed Bullfrog into the limo, but Cece grabbed my hand. "Wait, Clare."

Things with Cece had been frosty since my return. I had found a letter she had written to Eli right after I'd moved back, asking him to reconsider giving me a second chance. He told me that her opinion didn't matter to him on this issue, but even as time went on, and we spent more time with his family, things had never been the same between us. It was tough on me, since she had really taken me in during high school and treated me more like I was her daughter than her son's girlfriend. But now, the best she could be was polite, acting as if Eli and I were a casual fling rather than a committed, live-in relationship.

"I'm sorry," she said, grabbing my hands. "I should have forgiven you a long time ago for breaking Eli's heart, just like he did, but I was so afraid for my baby boy. He's had so much loss in his life, and you'll understand someday what it's like to see your child in so much pain. But I know things have changed, and that the two of you are stronger and more in love than ever before, and I can't tell you how happy it makes me."

"Thank you," I whispered through my tears. "And I'm so sorry."

She laughed, wiping tears off her own cheek. "I know Eli doesn't even do it, but…would you call me Mom?"

I nodded quickly, the emotion caught in my throat preventing me from replying verbally. She smiled and touched my cheek before climbing into the limo. Eli helped me get myself and my massive tulle skirt into the seat next to him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, noting my tear-streaked face.

"Everything's perfect."

* * *

><p>The pictures went well. Mom and Dad stayed far away from each other, and the photographer stuck to the list of photos we wanted before taking a bunch of just Eli and me. I was starving at that point, since I'd been too nervous to eat much before the wedding and we managed to join our reception right before the end of the cocktail hour.<p>

I was afraid to get food on my pretty dress, and Eli helped me stalk down every waiter carrying food that wasn't covered in red sauce. We hustled from table to table, thanking distant cousins for travelling out from Montreal or Wisconsin for the event.

My feet were killing me by the time we were able to share our first dance. I kicked off my heels and Eli practically held me up as we swayed to the soft ballad strains. We both felt self-conscious dancing with all eyes on us, so we blocked out the world, just listening to the lyrics of our favorite song as we gazed into each others' eyes.

I hated to let him go to dance with my father, but as my Dad led me around the dance floor, we had the first honest conversation we'd had since the divorce. He told me how proud he was of me, how happy he was that I'd found someone as good and loving as Eli. How pleased he was that I'd included Christian in the wedding. I had initially promised him we'd share a father-daughter dance to assuage his feelings, but I was really happy I'd made that decision.

After two more hours of excellent food, lots of dancing, a little bit of drinking and Bullfrog's tear-inducing yet hysterical best man speech, I was really tired out. I noticed two seats were available at a table filled with our high school friends and tugged Eli over to them, wanting to catch up with them just as much as I wanted to rest my feet.

"Claaaare," Alli squealed. "This is the best wedding I have ever been to." She threw her arms around me, and I grinned.

"You've had too much to drink," I teased. "I'm cutting you off."

Alli laughed. "Are you kidding? I'm like four drinks behind Emily." She gestured at Adam's wife, who was stumbling her way toward the bar.

Adam grinned. "I told her I'd be designated driver. She probably won't be drinking for a while after tonight."

I raised my eyebrows. "What is that supposed to mean?"

His eyes sparkled as he leaned in closer. "She doesn't want everyone to know yet, but we're going to try in vitro in the next few weeks."

"Adam…" Eli beamed with pride. "That's great, man."

"Oh my God," I breathed. "You're going to have a baby!"

"Don't get too ahead of yourselves. It might not work out as well as we hope, but…" Adam looked happier than I had ever seen him. "We're really excited."

Eli squeezed Adam's shoulder and said, "We're with you every step of the way."

I looked at the two of them fondly. It had taken Adam a while to forgive me for abandoning both Eli and him when I'd moved away, but in spite of that, seeing Eli and me together had really inspired Adam to make some changes in his life. He had dumped his vapid girlfriend and a few months later, he met Emily. Eli and I absolutely adored her; she was everything we'd always hoped for Adam.

They'd only been together for a few months when Adam called to tell us they had eloped. Eli especially had been hurt to be left out, but with Adam's issues with his parents and Emily's family not exactly being on board either, they thought it would be easier. I was glad that we'd be able to be a part of their child's life.

"What about you two?" Jenna asked, leaning into K.C. who had his arms wrapped around her. "Any babies on the way?"

Eli gave me a look of horror. "Not that I'm aware of."

I slapped his shoulder. "We'll get there. Someday. When we're ready." We'd talked about it and decided that we'd like a few more years of just being together before we had a child, even though we both really wanted to in the future.

"How's Alex doing?" Eli asked.

"Really good," K.C. said. "I can't believe she's turning ten next week."

"Well, she acts like she's sixteen already," Jenna grumbled, and we laughed. I hated to say it, but I was surprised that K.C. and Jenna had been able to work things out and stay together all these years. We weren't as close with them as we were with Alli or Adam, but I knew it hadn't been easy for them. It was nice to see them happy together.

"Hey, you took my seat," Sav said, returning to the table with Alli's boyfriend Keith, drinks in hand.

"Where's your date, Sav?" Eli joked. Much to his parents' chagrin, Sav was eternally single. Alli and I had speculated that it was actually their fault, since whenever he found a girl he really liked, he was afraid to bring her home and face his parents' disapproval so the girl would end up thinking he wasn't serious enough about their relationship and breaking up with him.

"Where's your mom, Eli?"

Eli pretended to take him seriously and glanced around the room. "I don't see her, so she's probably doing unspeakable things to my father somewhere in the building. Thanks for ruining my wedding day with that image."

"Anytime, bro."

Alli rolled her eyes. "So where are you going on your honeymoon? You've been so busy with wedding planning that we haven't gotten to talk."

"We're flying to San Diego and renting a car, and then we're going to take about a month to six weeks and drive up the cost. We're stopping in L.A. and San Francisco, then driving up to Portland and Seattle and ending up in Vancouver," I said.

I had come up with the idea of the trip and Eli had agreed immediately. He'd never been to that part of the States and I really wanted to show him my life in Vancouver that he had missed out on.

"Six weeks? Holy crap, that's a long time," K.C. commented.

I shrugged. "Well, that's the benefit of being writers. It's a honeymoon but it's also a working vacation."

He raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. I knew this trip was a luxury that none of our friends could afford. But Eli's book had been so successful that money wasn't something we needed to worry about, especially since we were both so down-to-earth spending-wise that this vacation was the first thing we'd really splurged on.

"When are you leaving?" Sav asked.

"Next Sunday," Eli answered. "We wanted to wait until Darcy flew back to Kenya so we could spend as much time with her as possible."

"Then where are you spending tonight?" Alli grinned.

Eli and I exchanged a look. "We'll be spending it at home," he explained.

All of our friends groaned. "It's your wedding night! You should go somewhere special," Jenna exclaimed.

"We are," I said, and leaned in to kiss Eli. There was nothing more special to us than the home we'd built together.

The music changed and Jenna and K.C. got up to dance. Adam, Eli, Sav and Keith got into a conversation about how lame most wedding music was, and I leaned closer to Alli.

"So is this everything you've ever dreamed of?" she asked.

"And more."

She pulled me into a tight embrace. "I'm so happy for you."

After everything that happened between us, I was surprised at how quickly Alli and I had gotten close again. Two days after I had moved in with Eli I knocked on her front door and by the time I left six hours later, it was like we were sisters again.

"You know, besides Darcy, you're my oldest friend here."

Her bottom lip quivered. "Don't do this to me, Clare. I've cried enough today."

I giggled. "Me too."

She grabbed my hand. "Let's dance."

* * *

><p>By the time the cab dropped Eli and me off at our condo, I was too tired to walk without leaning against him. It had been such an incredible day that went by way too fast but all I wanted to do was get out of this dress and curl up in bed with Eli.<p>

We took the elevator up to our floor and Eli paused at the door. "Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?" he asked.

"I think I can walk by myself, thank you," I said dryly.

He unlocked the door and gestured for me to enter before him. I flipped on the light switch to see that my dining room table was covered in flowers and chocolate and unlit votive candles with a large wrapped box in the middle. I peered into the living room and saw the setup was much the same, minus the gift.

"Eli, what did you do?"

He grinned. "Everyone told me coming back home after our wedding would be anti-climactic so I thought I'd spice things up a little." He pressed a kiss into my neck. "They obviously don't realize that sex with you could never be anti-climactic." He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I smacked him on the arm lightly. "I've got a bottle of champagne in the fridge; do you want some?"

"Sure," I said. I dug around the drawer of the hall table until I found a lighter and started to light the candles that were scattered around our apartment.

He came back with two flutes and I sipped mine while I tried to unbutton his shirt with one hand. "Don't you want to open your present first?"

"You mean, you're not my present?"

"Nope." He looked nervous. "I've got something pretty important for you."

I bit my lip. "I didn't get you anything. Were we supposed to get each other wedding presents? I had that huge deadline and then I was so busy working out the details for the wedding and the honeymoon that it completely slipped my mind."

"Clare, don't worry. I don't need anything but you." He nodded toward the package. "Open it up."

It was heavier than I was expecting and Eli's eyes widened as I shook it. "Don't do that!"

"So it's something fragile. Hmm…"

He laughed. "Not in the way you're thinking."

I tore off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid to find a huge stack of paper with a fancy red pen lying on top. I squinted at the small letters on the first page.

"Forever by Eli Goldsworthy," I read, my eyes widening.

"It's just a first draft. It's kind of a mess," he said. "But I was hoping you could help me edit it. It's a sequel to Midnight. It's the story of how we found each other again."

My jaw was dropped in shock. I had been waiting for this moment for almost three years. I'd spent hours watching Eli type furiously, wondering what he was working on, while he dodged my questions, not wanting to jinx his progress.

"Well?" he asked when I hadn't said anything.

"I'm not sure why you gave this to me tonight," I said softly, stepping toward him as his face fell. "Because I'm pretty sure you want to have sex with me, but now all I want to do is read your book."

Eli's mouth opened and shut like a fish. "But…but…I've been dreaming of this moment for the past ten years."

"A lot of couples don't even bother to have sex on their wedding night," I continued, watching his face turn red with frustration. "Since almost no one waits anymore, it's really not that big of a deal." I tossed back the rest of my champagne as Eli gaped at me.

I grasped both side of the tie that was dangling loosely around his neck and pulled him toward me. "I've waited three years to read your book, Eli. I think I can wait until tomorrow."

His eyes darkened. "Good, because I can't."

Eli's arms came around me and he literally swept me off my feet, wedding dress and all, and carried me into the bedroom.

It wasn't the first time we made love. But it was ever bit as sweet.


End file.
